A Strange Fate
by Karina
Summary: Once Arthur and his knights descend into Marius' dark dungeon, they find a third survivor who was deemed a horrible monster, feared by the Romans. How can this being help change the course of the future for Arthur and his knights? Chap 10 is here!
1. Prologue

**Title: **A Strange Fate

**Author: **Karina

**Rating:** Strong PG-13 for description of torture and general dark themes.

**Summary: **Once Arthur and his knights descend into Marius' dark dungeon, they find a third survivor who was deemed a horrible monster, feared by the Romans and treated as such. Was it truly so? How can this being help change the course of the future for Arthur and his knights?

**Warning:** Cross over with the Lord of the Rings :) It begins just before the movie but swiftly moves in cannon with the story we know. Post ROTK, movie/book cannon, KA movie cannon. Somewhat... it is a crossover... ;)

**Disclaimer:** Recognizable dialogue belongs to its respective universe (Lord of the Rings or King Arthur) If there are any discrepancies or any errors whatsoever, please let me know! I'd love some criticism is you have

**Author's note :** My first new story in nearly three years! I appologize to those waiting for my next chapter of The Space Between in the LOTR section. It's coming!

I'm trying to keep this story as faithful as possible to both universes, but of course with the coming of my mystery guest, things are bound to change for Arthur and his knights (hint hint!). Still, I'm following the movie only with this additional character, yet his coming does change the course of events. I'll let the story take flight and go where it will.

My knowledge of King Arthur is essentially limited to the movie, so if I make a mistake (like saying Bors has a hawk and Tristan has 11 children) please let me know! I know more of LOTR, but I'll do my best. This is more of an experiment, so it's a risk for both you and me. Oh yeah and I'm starting it with a typical setting, third survivor out of Marius' dungeon. What can I say, I think it's one of the easiest places to insert an extra character, but I think it fits well enough.

**Extra general warnings :** I always tend to explore dark themes and usually my stories are filled with symbolisms. I try to dig deeper and have a deeper meaning, something we can try to learn from. In this story, needless to say, it's acceptance towards those who are different and defeating prejudism. I'm sure there are more themes that will cross our path, but for now these are the main ones.

Some parts may be a little dark. There is implied torture (mental/physical) and this story is a bit of a healing type story, healing through learning from other people I guess. Though there will be nothing graphic, though maybe a bit of retelling, but that's all. Oh and there's no slash whatsoever, nor is there any romance, at least the only romance is cannon to both universes (save for one implied one much later on and it's not really important, but just to warn you ahead of time!)

Phew! I always tend to ramble for a very long time before the story starts, but at least it's only for the first chapter... I think that's all and we can now go on with the story! I'm including the first chapter along with the prologue since the latter is so short. Thanks!

**_A Strange Fate_**

**_This story has recently undergone a few changes. Most chapters have been modified. Please take the time to skim through them quickly, if you like! Thanks

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**Prologue:**_ Shadowed Stranger_

Some thousand years before Britain was forged at the United Kingdom, it was a larger vaster island, where the lands that would be known as Scotland and Ireland were once fused with the main isle. To the West, Britain was populated by ancient beings thriving long before the Roman Empire even came to be. They were the beings of legend, whispers of nameless fears and shreds of mystery passed through the winds. Since the West was hardly visited, there was no belief in any of these lost legends and forgotten tales. The world had changed, much that once was, was now lost, for very few lived to remember it. _History became legend, legend became myth and some things that should not have been forgotten... were lost. _Faith was lost, and the desire to believe and dream was just another passing thought.

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The stars shined brightly above in the ever ending sky, almost taunting those living down below with thoughts of freedom. For the stars were free as they twinkled merrily, so high and mighty they were, rejoicing in their freedom. 

In the dead of night, where all that was alive were the creatures of darkness and the twinklingstars above, a lone shadow crept from the mist towards a warm fire were sat a man attempting to remain awake. His comrades had long ago given way to the world of dreams, save for his predecessor who was too happy to be relieved from his watch. At last, once his ale-fogged mind cleared, the soldier noticed the unwelcomed visitor who, he would swear later on, appeared magically across the flames.

"Hey you!" he shouted, his hand reaching for his sword. "What do you want?"

The mysteriously cloaked being recoiled slightly, his threatening appearance losing none of its potency. Upon seeing the slightly inebriated man, the cloaked and hooded shadow flashed his own bit of steel.

"What do you want?" The standoffish soldier repeated his question, but pulled his hand away from his sheath when he saw the stranger was only interested in information.

"I am searching for someone," the shadow whispered hoarsely.

"Who?"

Taking the proffered invitation, the mysterious stranger sat down.


	2. Chapter One

**Title:** A Strange Fate

Title:Karina

**Rating:** Strong PG-13 for description of torture and general dark themes.

**Summary:** Once Arthur and his knights descend into Marius' dark dungeon, they find a third survivor who was deemed a horrible monster, feared by the Romans and treated as such. Was it truly so? How can this being help change the course of the future for Arthur and his knights?

**Warning:** Cross over with the Lord of the Rings :)

**Disclaimer:** Recognizable dialogue belongs to its respective universe (Lord of the Rings or King Arthur) If there are any discrepancies or any errors whatsoever, please let me know! I'd love some criticism is you have

**Chapter One:** _A Long Awaited Arrival_

There was a chill on the air as the winds blew, whispering promises of early snowfall. Not long ago the days had begun to darken more swiftly and the sun was evermore covered by mist and cloud. Yet despite these ill omens, the small band of knights still road hard towards the northern part of Britain, past the Great Wall.

"I told you, I didn't like the look of that Roman, didn't I?" Bors cursed yet again after the Bishop who had sent them on some futile mission that would most likely get them all killed.

"Did you see the look in his eyes as we left?" Gawain asked. "I swear he was mocking us."

"Probably was, the Roman bastard!" The others around Bors chuckled.

"It probably would have been better for Galahad to kill him," added Lancelot as he joined in the conversation. "Then at least we would have our papers and our freedom and we wouldn't be on this useless mission."

"It matters not, had we killed the Roman, it would have been far worse for us," the younger knight replied sharply, his anger losing none of its bite.

"True," Bors said reflectively. "Still, I don't like the bastard."

"Me neither Bors," Lancelot agreed. "Me neither."

Silent as always, Tristan shook his head, mildly yet strangely amused.

"Where are we off to anyway?" he heard one of his fellow comrades ask.

Smirked to himself, he rode up next to Arthur Castus, the leader of this band of Knights. "We are almost there," the commander said to his faithful scout. "Scout ahead and look for any signs of the Saxons. We shall head for the Roman estate. Meet us there as soon as you can."

Nodding to Arthur, Tristan urged his mount faster past the idly conversing knights and their planned destination.

"So, what do you think we'll find at this estate?" Gawain asked. "I mean, more than just the family?"

"Oh I don't know, Gawain. Probably just a hoard of Romans drinking and eating themselves silly, like all Romans," Bors exclaimed a little too loudly, for Arthur, Roman by birth, over heard the brassy knight. He shot Bors a look so cold it was one the patriarchal knight would not soon forget. The other knights had not noticed Arthur glaring daggers at them, so they laughed at the jest.

"I would believe what you say is close to the truth, Bors."

"Well thank you Dagonet, I see you've already started your post as my Royal Arse-Kisser!"

"If you say so. The Romans, as we see so well, are well known for their opulence and ridiculous habits. It is no wonder their rule is failing. No offenses to you, Arthur," the gentler quieter knight explained.

"None taken, Dagonet. I fear, you are right though. Despite the fact that Rome is magnificent, truly is it a wonder to see, there are those who soil its image by engaging themselves in vices such as these. But, of course they are the exception to the rule."

"Really?" Lancelot asked sarcastically, his brow arching. "Then prove us wrong for we arrive."

True enough, the knights had arrived at the estate of a man entitled Marius Honorius. However if he was honourable as his name would suggest, that was left to be seen.

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"Not again," Lancelot whispered to Bors as Arthur unsheathed Excalibur and begun to walk about the Roman estate.

Bors sighed. "There is a time and place for this and right now it's not the place and we don't have the time. Why don't we just gather up the boy and leave already?" he said of Alecto, the young Roman they were sent to rescue along with his family.

"Try telling him that," Galahad interjected just as Arthur commanded the villagers to prepare to leave.

After speaking with Tristan, who had returned from scouting, something then caught the Roman commander's interest and he marched toward a small structure where, under guard, monks were laying stones over a door.

Young Alecto, who had followed Arthur as he rallied the villagers and freed the elder, seethed in horror as he watched the Roman order the guards to move away from the small structure. Though, he was not harbouring any ill-will towards Arthur for demanding to enter and to break down the wall, Alecto felt his ire rise once again, for he knew the horrors that dwelt in the deep. And so, it was without any hesitation or regret and to the dismay of onlookers that the young Roman swiftly turned around and ran towards the manor.

Lancelot and Bors exchanged looks, most likely thinking the boy was angry for having his father's manor combed through by their commander and the horrors of it unveiled before the eyes of all.

Galahad rolled his eyes as Arthur attempted to forced his way into the structure to see what it held. Somehow, in his heart, Arthur knew some ill fated terror resided behind the wall, the structure reeked of it.

"Do you not hear the drums?" Galahad called, trying to reason with his commander.

Ignoring all comments from his knights, Arthur instructed Dagonet to break the door down. And so the strong knight did, releasing the terrible vagues of fear that rolled out of the dark passage through the door. As he entered, Arthur felt a dreadful chill set in his bones and it was not from the falling snow. This place was evil, despite the familiar Latin sounds of Christian chanting. However if the Christ were present in this dank dark place, his heart would have wept not only for the horrors committed, but also for the soiling of his teachings. This was not the work of true Christendom, but a fouler defilement of it.

Moments after Arthur passed through the door, Alecto reappeared carrying a large bundle in his arms, eliciting quizzical glances from the knights. He set it down next to the wall and the knights could see what it was. There was a large enough worn leather pack, which appeared to be rather full, next to an exquisite leather quiver with a delicately painted, yet colourful, peacock. Attached to the quiver were two identical ivory handled blades encrusted with gold filigree. A long sword rested near by, sheathed in its fine red leather scabbard with a long bow next to it. The knights could see the intricate designs and markings that decorated the bow, it was clear that he who made it possessed great talent and much care.

Upon seeing the youth set down the bundle, Tristan jumped off his horse and marched to the exquisite weapons layed before them. Unsheathing the sword, he saw that it was curved, almost like his own, only more graceful and delicate. The blade shined of pearl and silver and as though it was never used, but Tristan knew better. His keen eyes could detect the wear around the edges of the sword, as well as tiny stains of blood and dirt and an unusual black substance he could not identify. Just below the dark green handle with gold filigree, a great groove was set, giving the blade a fiercer look. Gold and green filigree swirled around the blade in delicate patterns, which were also reproduced on the sword wielder's pack, were intricately placed between strange markings which appeared to be writing. Letters Tristan could not understand. It was a weapon fit for a king.

The other knights watched as their dark companion admired the evidently skilled craftsmanship that went into the creation of such a fine blade.

"Hmm, very nice," Tristan said softly as he tested the sword's strength. "If this blade has no wielder, I would take it."

"I'm sure you would, Tristan," Bors replied.

Galahad agreed. "It is a lovely sword. Though I don't believe I recognize the workmanship. What sort of blade is it? Tristan?"

"I do not know," the queried knight answered.

"The bow is rather impressive as well," the youngest knight said to whomever was listening.

"Yes," Tristan agreed, "an effective weapon." He said this all the while testing the make tautness of the bowstring and then continued to thouroughly examine the remainder of the items on the ground.

"Well it's definitely, not Roman, nor Saxon or Woad. What is it?" Bors asked, his question directed at the one who brought those weapons out. Just then, Marius returned, glarring evil daggers at his son.

"Alecto! I told you not to keep those!" he shouted angrily. He turned to the knights and answered their questions. "They belong to a monster, the Devil itself."

Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know of any mishaps so far and please tell me what you think. I'm looking for ways to improve my writing to critism is very much welcomed!


	3. Chapter Two

**A Strange Fate**

**Author's notes:** Whoa! I certainly wasn't expecting this kind of reception for this story! Thank you so much for your wonderful response! Individual replies to reviews are at the bottom...

It's kinda funny how many of you seem to believe that the 'mysterious being' from the prologue is the same as the owner of the weapons Tristan is admiring...

Disclaimer and notes are on the prologue. If you spot any mistakes whether grammatical, in spelling, or any mistakes in the story, please let me know! Thanks!

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**Chapter Two** : _When Darkness Fades_

If Arthur could have wept, he would have. It felf as everything he believed in was slowly beginning to crumble. Yet, his heart sprang with joy when Dagonet found a little boy trapped in some terrible hole. Moments later, he and Lancelot found a young woman locked in a small cell. As he reached for her, she grunted, weakly pointing with her good hand towards the lower recesses of that dreadful place.

"I think there is something down there," Arthur said to Lancelot who glanced in the direction pointed by the young woman. Seeing the dark and shadowed downward passage, Lancelot nearly gulped.

"Arthur," he threatened, or nearly pleaded, the Roman could not tell, "we have no time!"

Shrugging off his right hand man's comment, Arthur began to walk towards the dark passage. "Perhaps there is someone still alive down there, in great need of us. Gawain, stay with the girl, wait for us."

Lancelot looked to his fellow knight and rolled his eyes but said no more words. Gawain shook his head silently; he would have laughed had it been any other circumstance.

"No! You must not go there!" One of the monks shouted desperately. "You cannot go there and unleash it! We shall all be dead if you do!"

"Why?" the Roman queried angrily. "What is down there?"

"A horrendous monster! It's horrible. Nearly killed thirty of the Roman guards! You cannot release it! It will kill us all! The master worked so hard in subduing him but he could not! The demon is too powerful! Oh mercy Lord, help us!" the monk continued to wail and beg Arthur to not go down, yet the officer paid no heed to his warnings.

Together, he and Lancelot braved the dark passage down to the lower level and found themselves in a spacious chamber, but it was not empty. Tables filled with sharp metal instruments, spiked chairs, direful machines, and blood drenched wooden posts filled the centre while panels with manacles, chains and rods lined the walls. The ceiling was not wasted room either, for it was teemed with hooks and cables and other unusual instruments of less than savoury natures. Lined against the walls, were more implements designed to inflict the worse kind of pain on usually poor helpless humans.

"What is this place?" Arthur whispered in astonishment. He knew. There was no need for Lancelot to clarify what this chamber was meant for, yet that did not stop the horror from rising and stilling his breath. The eerie silence spoke volumes of the torment and horror of this place. This was a room of death, for the walls and the ground they stood on were stained with much blood which screamed against the injustices inflicted upon them. This was a room where the blood of the innocent was spilt. Admits the torment implements, there was a door in the far end of the chamber, almost hidden in a pocket of the room.

Lancelot nodded to Arthur, and both knights marched to it without any hesitation. The being locked here must have suffered through many or all the machines and implements which filled this room. Arthur tested the door, but it did not give way.

"It is locked," Lancelot stated the obvious.

"Then find a key!" gritted Arthur sharply. Rolling his eyes, Lancelot ran up the stairs and found the monk still begging and pleading them not to set loose the "atrocious evil demon." Shoving the monk to the ground, the knight took the keys off him and rejoined Arthur.

"Now, let us see what dreadful creature awaits us on the other side," he said as Arthur unlocked the door and slowly opened it. At first, there seemed to be nothing in the cell, but as torchlight filtered in, the two knights could see the outlines of a pale gaunt man chained to the wall. His arms were outstretched far above his head, yet he was balled in a corner, sitting with his knees nearly up to his chin. Staring straight at the two intruders, he looked as though the light bothered him, yet he did not bother to close his eyes. This terrifying monster made no motion, no sign that he was indeed interested in killing them.

Slowly Arthur crouched next to the man, whom did not appear any older than twenty years of age. His eyes went up and down the young man, saddening as they took in his appearance. His face, though dirty, bruised and bleeding and covered by his long blond hair, which also was fairly soiled, reflected strength and fairness which was not often seen unless it be with Arthur's knights. It seemed as though this man, nay a boy for he could not be very old, had been here for a long time, too long. His ragged cloths barely clung to his skin for they were tattered and torn revealing the remains of ugly welts and frequent lashings. Yet strangely, Arthur could have sworn he almost saw a light emanating from the youth, as though he was made of it and keeping him in the darkness was the worse fate anyone could bestow upon him.

He could feel the youth's gaze following him, burning into him and when Arthur stared straight into the prisoner's eyes, he almost wavered. Locked in a near battle of wills, he could see so much in those clear blue eyes, pain, pride, fierceness, sadness, relief and perhaps even a hint of fear. What struck him the most was that this gaze was hard piercing, he felt although this man could see into his very soul, could see his darkest deepest secrets. This was not the gaze of a broken man, but that of a stubborn, strong, and proud one who would not give into anything: a fighter. And he still held much fire in his eyes. His face appeared so young, so innocent, yet his eyes belied this for Arthur saw much wisdom and knowledge beyond a young man's face. "Old and young at the same time," the knight thought curiously.

At last when he was released from the boy's gaze, Arthur gasped for breath at the intensity of the moment. Looking up towards Lancelot, he took the keys from his grasp and fumbling to find the right one, unlocked the sharp edged manacles that dug too deeply in the youth's soft flesh. Arthur winced as he saw the rawness around the thin wrists, testimony to the being's fire as he must have struggled immensely in those fetters for blood snaked down from the raw wounds. But what stole his breath was the state of the boy's left hand: it was burnt and badly so as though it was held to a fire for a long period of time. Slowly, the youth lowered his arms and gently rubbed his obviously sore wrists. For some time, he just sat there, staring at his blistered hands as though he could not believe the reality that they had been released, that he was freed. Something in his heart stirred and told him these men were not here to cause him harm. They would have done so by then.

Though they had no time, Arthur and Lancelot patiently waited until the youth was done staring at his bloody wrists and looked up expectantly at his apparent rescuers.

"We have not come to harm you. You need not fear us, we are here to help," Arthur extended his hand to show his desire to aid him. "Can you stand?"

The youth nodded slowly and to the knights' amazement, did not take the offered hand but ever so slowly, while leaning against the wall for support, pulled himself up. Standing straight, he appeared even more emaciated than before.

"Come lad, let us leave this foul place," the noble knight said as Lancelot helped the youth out of the room and into the chamber where his eyes widened and his breath hitched slightly upon seeing the terrible place. However he said nothing and expressed no more feelings on it. The trio rose from the lower level, but not without difficulty for the youth stumbled slightly as climbed the stairs, something he must not have done in a while and from the look of his ankles, it was plain that they had been broken at least once. No one soul could look upon this sad being and not be filled with empathy, at least no good soul. Even Lancelot felt a slight twinge in his heart for the lad.

Upon reaching the level where Gawain and Dagonet waited for them, Arthur passed to Gawain his torch and picked up the young woman on the ground. Gawain also decided to push the monks out with them, to face the horror of their crimes. At last the small group left the dark dungeon and returned to the light where Arthur's other knights awaited him.

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Marius tore the sword out of Tristan's grasp and flung it on the ground. Without any reaction whatsoever, the knight shrugged and mounted his horse nonchalantly.

"I told you, Alecto, not to keep these!" Marius pulled Alecto out of the knights' earshot and continued to berate his son.

"Monster?" Galahad quirked his brow.

Before anyone could answer, Dagonet and Gawain ran out of the darkness with Arthur on their heels shouting for water. He and Dagonet both carried bodies that were gently set down and given water. Lancelot also came out, but he was not alone as he helped a skeletal young man. Upon feeling the cool air on his face and the somewhat dampened light shining down on him, the youth whispered quietly.

"_Erio o i-dúath, minnanan galad_." _'Rise from theShadow (darkness), enter towards the light'_

Lancelot had heard the words that escaped the young one's lips, but did not understand what they meant. Though they sounded lovely, unlike any language he had heard before. The youth had spoken them lovingly, as though just speaking them brought him comfort. The boy's eyes scanned the surroundings until they rested on the weapons sprawled on the ground, **_his_** weapons. Slowly and slightly limping, he made his way towards them.

During this, Lancelot returned to Arthur's side and heard Marius' foul words.

"You released it! The elf monster is loose! You cursed us all!" he shouted angrily to the roman commander. He had just reproved his wife for keeping the girl alive and now the creature was set free. "You cannot know the horror you have caused! He must be locked away!"

Two soldiers approached the youth, their swords pointed at him. Alecto glanced from the youth to his father to the soldiers, his expression seething in anger. Just when the guards were close to the youth, he stood tall and proud despite the pain his movements must have cause him. Unexpectedly, he twirled to face them faster than the eyes of the onlookers could see and ever more quickly his hands moved to grab the wrist of the closest soldier and disarmed him. Taking the sword, the youth pointed it between the soldier's eyes. The guard knelt, fear taking him for he was threatened with his own weapon. Not one being moved as all waited with bated breath for the youth's next move. Again his actions were unexpected as he slowly lowered the sword and gave it back to its wielder. As soon as the soldier retook his blade, the youth collapsed against the wall, breathing hard. Arthur, who was not far, ran to him and placed his water skin to the youth's parched lips.

The Roman's heart was greatly saddened, so much pain this young man must have suffered through, too much. He turned his eyes towards Marius, who had dared not move during the display, of fear the 'monster' would attack him. "What crime is he guilty of to deserve such fear? What has he done to you?" Arthur interrogated angrily.

"He is a vile creature, a monster. Look at him! Do you not see?" Marius responded with equal ire in his voice.

"Arthur look!" Galahad directed his commander's attention. "Look at him, his ears. They are misshaped."

Arthur turned his gaze toward the still drinking youth and it was true, he was different. He pulled the youth's tangled hair and revealed his ears which were delicately pointed, something Arthur had never thought possible. "Who are you?" he questioned.

Marius smirked smugly. "See? It is a vile creature! An Elf it calls itself!"

"What is to become of him?" Arthur could not hide the shock from his voice. What was this man? An Elf? He always believed elves to be nothing more than a mere fairly tale. Never in two thousand life times would he have though to be face to face with one, and even so this Elf was nothing like those of the fairly tales he was told as a child.

"It is to be executed. By flames." Marius stated flatly.

"First he must be purified through pain so he may be forgiven for his sins," one the monks nearby added.

"What sins? You would kill him for being an elf?" Arthur queried, though he said the word 'elf' with some difficulty.

"He injured thirty of my soldiers and he speaks evil words," Marius said.

"Thirty Romans?" Bors whispered to Dagonet. "I like the lad already." Dagonet smiled briefly in response.

"And he is a heretic and a monster. That is cause enough," continued the monk.

Arthur snarled and ordered the monks to be walled up. He crouched next to the Elf who handed him the water skin.

"Thank you," he whispered softly.

Arthur nodded. "Does he speak the truth? Are you what he says you are?"

The Elf nodded, but could not speak coherently. "Yes, an Elf. I am." Alecto came next to the Elf and covered him with a grey cloak that was taken from the Elf's pack.

"What is your name?" the Roman commander asked gently.

The Elf closed his eyes. "Legolas," he whispered.

"Arthur we must go! The Saxons approach!" Lancelot shouted.

"Come, Legolas, we must go." Arthur extended his hand to help him get up.

"Please, I shall not be a burden to you," Legolas said solemnly, but tiredly, speaking his words with great effort. "I would not, not have you burdened by me. Leave, leave me if you must."

"No," Arthur spoke fervently. "I would not leave you in the hands of the Saxons, nor would I leave you to a terrible death."

"I promise you that I shall repay you this kindness." The Elf's words were barely above a whisper, but Arthur heard them nonetheless.

Alecto came forward with Legolas' pack and weapons. "I can help him."

Arthur acquiesced. "Then do so. Come we must go there is no time."

Legolas draped his cloak over his shoulders and fastened it around his throat with a small leaf shaped brooch of silver and green and pulled up his hood.

"Legolas, come," Alecto called. "You can stay in here." He offered the Elf a place in the same caravan where rested the girl and the boy that were rescued with him.

The Elf took the proffered space in the caravan. He seated himself in the back not far from the girl who was staring at him openly. Legolas smiled softly and she returned the smile before closing her eyes once more. The Elf leaned against the walls of the caravan and gazed at the heavily falling snow. His eyes searched the estate before him, as the caravan rode further away.

"Arod, where are you?" Moments later, his ears picked up the sound of a familiar whinnying.

"Arod, he breathed, "_tolo enni_."_ 'Come to me' _The Elf smiled before he too closed his eyes and slid into a restful sleep that was denied to him for many long months.

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Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. Honestly I was quite surprised but insanely ecstatic! 

**je suis une pizza,** moi je suis une auteure! Thanks! I'm glad you find it cool and I do hope to hear from you again!

**katemary77**, thanks! I've never read a LOTR/KA crossover either! So I decided to write one! I hope it doesn't disappoint you.

**Alya**, I'm afraid I can't answer that question! But if you reread the summary carefully... I'll let you take a guess on what's to come... ;) I liked Dagonet very much and was greatly saddened by his death. Mind you the same can be easily said for Tristan and Lancelot... Thanks very much for your nice words! I hope you like this little part.

**camlann**, not sure? Well it's true it's a bit early in the story to form an opinion. I won't answer your question, but you sure studied your weaponry very well! I hope this chapter provides a bit more info for you to chew on. Thanks! Oh, go ahead, post your LOTR fic. You never know what can happen...

**Solain Rhyo**, thanks! I'm glad that this crossover got your attention... Now that I have it, I hope I can keep it!

**etraya**, thank you! I'm glad you liked the dramatic tension. I kinda like playing around with that... As for romance... nothing non cannon, but you never know... This story is cannon (well sorta) with my series of LOTR stories...

**Dazzler420**, well it the character was female I think it would have been an OC, I have one in my LOTR fics. Though I think I'm partial to Eowyn as an LOTR female, even though she's no elf. Legolas/Lancelot banter? Well Legolas was accused of manicuring his nails and Lancelot curls his eyelashes... Gimli & Bors sounds good! (Thinks of the ROTK drinking game... The Elf would kick all their butts!) Aragorn and Tristan do have a lot in common... Then again so do Legolas and Tristan... But you never know! Thanks so very much for your enthusiasm, your ideas and your review! Hope to hear from you soon! Chocolate covered Legolas? Lovely. did you read my dreams? What about sparing between Eowyn and Guinevere? Who would win do you think? I've got my bets set on the White Lady of Rohan... You?

**Sweet A.K. (Or Amanda)**, Thank you my first reviewer! I do hope to hear from you soon! Thanks so much!


	4. Chapter Three

**A Strange Fate**

**Author's Notes : **Wow, thank you so much for the great response! I appreciate it so very much! Here's another chapter, I hope you all like it and if you spot any errors or inconsistencies, please let me know! Feel free to let me know if you like too;) Replies to reviews are at the end, thank and enjoy!

Oh and this is just a reminder, but this is a cross over with the Lord of the Rings :)

Oh and I have a small favour to ask of you! My website is in a webcompetition and this coming week I'm in the final round. I was wondering if I could have your support! If you like, I'd soo appreciate it if you could spend about thirty seconds of your time from Monday to Friday (or one of those days at least) and vote for me! The link is on my bio page... it won't come through over here! Voting is for **Lost Legends and Forgotten Tales** (my website!) 

**Thanks so very much! **

**_Extra note... Elvish translation is now included in all chapters! Thanks for the reminder, katemary77;)_**

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**Chapter Three** : _Dust of a Whisper_

There comes a day in winter when the snowfall is so thick and the sky so shrouded, it is nearly impossible to tell where the sky ends and the earth begins. The days of snowfall grow so quiet, one is compelled to whisper so as to not disturb the serene silence of nature. Such a day it was for Arthur and his knights. The sky above, completely covered by thick luminous clouds, was an even whiter shade of pale, while the silence was absent with the passing of the slow company of knights, an entire roman household and three survivors from the bowels of Hell.

The light murmur of travellers, however, was suddenly overcome by the soaring cry of a great hawk who ripped through the monochromatic sky to the quiet rejoicement of her master. With unparalleled elegance and grace, she perched herself on her beloved's warm familiar embrace. Almost amorously, she pecked at his cheek, softly cooing in his ear. Tristan smiled lopsidedly as he affectionately caressed his hawk.

"What did you see, my precious, eh? What did you see?" The hawk cooed and pecked more vigorously in a sort of response to the knight's question.

Tristan strained his ear, for he knew that when the hawk came to him so, there was something amiss. The way she now pecked his ear indicated they were being followed closely. Without saying a word, The knight broke formation from his companions, and rode away to investigate his hawk's findings.

While Tristan rode off in pursuit of pursuers, Lancelot worried on the slow motion of their procession. He feared, and with good reason, the Saxons would easily be able to catch up with them.

"The girl's not going to make it and neither is the boy," he told Arthur. "The Elf, or creature, that is with us, I cannot begin to fathom."

Arthur titled his head to the side in an attempt to pierce his second in command's meaning.

"I don't trust him, Arthur. I don't know what he is and it doesn't matter how much he suffered he could still be dangerous to us."

"Are you saying he is in league with the Saxons?" Arthur asked. He highly esteemed Lancelot's opinions and viewed the knight's suggestions with keen interest.

"I cannot say. It matters not really who is with. Did you not see how, despite his injuries, he so effectively disarmed that Roman soldier. Never before have I seen someone move so fast. Do not underestimate him, Arthur."

"No, you are right, Lancelot. And I do keep my guards up with him, as do the others, I think." Lancelot nodded, he knew the other knights did not trust the Elf any more than they would trust a legion of blood thirsty Woads.

"Still," Arthur continued, "I cannot leave him. Don't worry, I had the intention of questioning him once he seemed well enough. There are many questions that I wish answered."

The knight nodded. "Yes, I think it would be well if all of us were present." Just then Tristan returned, riding up next to Arthur.

"We are being followed," he said simply.

Arthur's eyes widened while Lancelot smirked. They all knew it was a matter of time before the Saxons would come for them, but this soon?

Arthur focussed on his friend. "By whom?"

"A lone riderless horse," the dark knight replied. "He is gaining on us."

Arthur's brow creased. "Do you believe it to be a threat?"

"No, it has no saddle or bridle, it could be a wild horse. Yet, he follows so closely. He may have a purpose."

The Roman nodded. For some inexplicable reason, Lancelot laughed.

"What is it?" Arthur asked as Tristan eyed the mirthful knight curiously.

"Just a thought. We speak of this Elf like he is our enemy, yet we ignore that we also carry with us our sworn enemy, a Woad. And we pay her no heed."

Arthur shook his head as Tristan turned away mumbling something about 'pretty weapons'.

After a brief exchange of words with Lancelot, the Roman took his leave and made the decision to visit their ailing travel companions. Firstly, he checked on the boy, whom Dagonet confirmed was feverish, but slowly doing well. He was relieved to see the girl was now awake and though still weak and in great pain, which was now attributable to her newly reset fingers. She gave her name, Guinevere, and her eyes now drifted to the sleeping form of the Elf not far from her.

Arthur followed her gaze and returned to look at her curiously. Guinevere swallowed dryly before she spoke. "He protected us, sang to us in the dark when no one would listen." Her eyes returned to rest on Arthur's face. "You're Arthur of the knights from the Great Wall?"

"I am."

"The famous Briton who kills his own people," she whispered before collapsing back into unconsciousness. Arthur jerked back almost in disgust. Who was she to say such things? He studied the sleeping girl until he once again felt eyes burning into him. He turned to see Legolas, staring intently at him. Arthur approached the Elf whose gaze remained fixed on him.

"Lord Arthur," Legolas whispered as the man drew closer.

"Please, it is just Arthur. I am no Lord."

"On the contrary," the Elf countered. "You may not yet be Lord, but I can see your heart is that of a true leader, one that anyone would follow. Perhaps even, you have the heart of a King."

"No, I think not. Let me see your hand," the Roman said, attempting to change the subject.

Without saying another word, Legolas gave his hand over to Arthur, who examined it.

"It is healing well," he looked at the Elf in astonishment. "Too well." It was true, the incernerated flesh had already begun to repair itself; it did not look as painful as it did. A closer look at the Elf also demonstrated his appearance had improved immensely since being out of the prison. The bruises on his face had faded and colour slowly returned.

"How is this possible? It has only been a few hours since we left the manor."

"They heal quickly," Legolas said simply taking his hand away from Arthur.

"Yes, I can see that, but it was a terrible injury. I would know your secret. It may be of help to us."

Legolas smiled wryly. "There is none. Elven bodies are meant to mend quickly. It is a gift, but it can also be a curse."

"How so?" Now, Arthur was intrigued.

"Yes, wounds heal swiftly and that is well, some even before our very eyes. It is a curse because wounds that heal quickly are often quickly replaced."

Arthur nodded, understanding the Elf's meaning; he supposed it could be true.

"It is so," the Elf confirmed the man's thought. He leaned back against the wall of the wagon, taking a deep breath. He may be a fast healer, but his body still protested against anything too extreme.

"I am sorry," Arthur could find no more words to say.

"Do not be. Certainly, you are not to blame. It matters not. It appears my lot in life these past few months has been little more than to be carrion or sport."

"Sport? For whom?"

"Roman Soldiers." Arthur looked up at the Elf then and the look of horror and bewilderment in his eyes, nearly made the Elf laugh.

"Oh yes, much amusement did they get, much amusement indeed," Legolas mused bitterly. Silence ensued as Arthur pondered the Elf's words.

At last Legolas spoke again. "Do not worry about the horse. He is my friend; he follows me."

For the second time in a short period, Arthur looked at Legolas in surprise. The Elf seemed content to lay back with his eyes closed.

"Your horse?"

"Yes, his name is Arod. Do not worry, he means no harm and will not alert anyone to your position or destination, wherever that may be."

"You heard us speak then," the man pressed the Elf perhaps a little more than he intended, yet he had not expected him to hear his earlier conversation with his knights.

"Yes, your voices were clear enough to be carried to my ears. Though I wonder why your friend, Lancelot, did not believe the Lady Guinevere and the young Master Lucan would not pull through."

"What else did you hear?" Arthur began, agitated. "How was it that you could hear us?"

"I am sorry-" the Elf began, but Arthur cut him off.

"Forget it."

Legolas studied the Roman's face for a time. His eyes saddened slightly as he came to a realisation.

"You do not trust me," the elf said suddenly. Arthur started to reply, but the Elf stopped him

"Just like these Romans," he spoke the word with much spite in his voice," you fear me. All I am is some unusual, horrible creature to you."

"That is not so," The man began but was yet cut off by the Elf

"Yes," Legolas continued, " I am strange to you, you do not understand me. That is the will of all men, they fear what they do not understand and so persecute what they fear. That is well." Legolas waved his hand in dismissal. "I do not hold you against it, for you are also strange to me. My past experiences with the race of men tell me that I should not trust you either. Yet strangely enough, my knowledge of men has also brought me to the conclusion that yes, there is frailty in men, but there is also courage and honour to be found in them. Very few are those who would have braved the lower levels of that dark building, many would have simply turned back and allowed he who was trapped to rot for eternity.

"The race of men has always been a great puzzle to me. They are capable of such great actions of kindness, yet on the other hand they are also known for unleashing great force and terrible brutality. It is no wonder my kind love and hate them all the same. It can get rather confusing at times. To love and hate a race for their own inherit weaknesses and strengths. I do not fault mankind, nor do any of us, for men are doomed to die and too soon they die before they can truly see the fruits of their actions. And so Men never learn from their mistakes, they continue to make the same ones until at last they shall prove to be their undoing. But do not worry, there are those in mankind who give without withholding, sacrifice without regret. I only hope to see more men like them, for they would prove to be their enduring quality. Which are you, Master Arthur Castus, Roman, yet leader of these Knights and caretaker of mistreated mortals?"

"I am not sure."

The Elf laughed softly. "I would almost say you are of both. You give yourself freely to those in need, that to which I am testimony and are eternally grateful for and you can also be very insensate when it comes to massacre. I must admit that I too, am partial to both sides. For long have I fought with my people for deliverance from Darkness and Shadow, and now I must likened myself to giving. A noble thought it is really. Now Arthur of the Knights, I made promised you I would repay your kindness and to that I hold."

Legolas unsheathed one of his knives which lay nearby. "I make an oath, that I shall repay my debt to you in any way possible, even if it may claim my life to save yours."

Arthur was about to protest when Legolas took his knife and sliced his own palm to validate his oath.

"You need not do this," the man said.

"I do."

"Then I thank you. Take your rest, you still need it."

Legolas smirked ruefully. "Indeed." He leaned back and closed his eyes once more.

Arthur stayed a moment longer until he made his way out of the caravan. He was stopped by Fulicinia, the wife of Marius, the Roman who mistreated so many of his serfs including the three recuperating.

"He was always so gentle and so warm. He always wanted to help anyone in need. I fear that was his undoing," she said of the sleeping Elf.

"I can see that," Arthur agreed before he returned to his horse awaiting him.

-

-

-

Guinevere leaned against the central post of the carriage, watching as the people, animals and riders passed by, on what seemed to be an endless road. Many thoughts swirled in her mind, threatening to drown her in a sea of knowledge she no longer cared to carry. The past was the past and it was best to leave it so, lest she let her pain and sorrow swallow her up until there was nothing left of her soul to salvage. She counted herself blessed the elf was there. Countless times did he stand up for her and defended her when Marius and his guards taunted her or needlessly questioned her. And when she was sent to the bowels of hell to join the Elf, again she was protected by him in any way he could. The Elf, he seemed so close now, as Guinevere thought of him. Slowly and with effort, the girl tilted her head to the side and noticed said elf crawling up next to her. He stuck his head out of the carriage to look behind them.

"_Tolo enni, Arod, tolo enni. Darthan le_." _'Come to me, Arod, come to me! I await you.' _Legolas kept whispering these words until the sound of neighing could he heard. The elf smiled warmly. "_Tolo Arod_!" '_Come Arod!'_

At last the white and grey stained horse was in view. Legolas' eyes shined brightly as Arod trod next to the carriage. Grabbing hold of the horse's main, Legolas allowed his body to slide out of the carriage and onto Arod's back.

"What are you doing?" Guinevere asked, alarmed upon seeing the weakened elf mount his horse.

Legolas only smiled at the girl. "Do not worry. I go to savour my first taste of freedom," he said raising his arms to his sides, lifting his face to sky to taste his newfound freedom. "There is no Sun, Anor is hiding today, still I welcome the light she gives. The trees, the air, the snow," Legolas inhaled the sweet smell of crisp fresh air, "they all call to me. I need to go to them."

"But you're still weak! You can't ride!" Guinevere protested.

Legolas laughed softly. "Do not worry. I shall not go far, and Arod, is my trusted companion. He knows not to ride too briskly."

"_Mae carnen, mellon nin_,"_ 'Well done my friend' _he said to his friend as he stroked the horse's mane affectionately before riding away from the carriage much to Guinevere's bewilderment and worry.

* * *

**You know I appreciate every single review! They all mean so very much! Thanks a bunch guys!**

**Alya**, first off thanks so very much for your review! Yes, it could have been another elf, Glorfindel or one of the twins or Arwen even. I think I would have named him/her though. I too would have been disappointed in your case too! Thanks! Hope you like this next part!

**queen of the pearl**, hi! Thanks for your review! Hope to hear more from you!

**Dazzler420**, thanks again for reviewing! But I gotta say I would still root for Eowyn. I mean look at how she killed the Witch-King (of Angmar), it wasn't just any little gal that could have done it. Grant you, Guinevere is pretty good too. She is a survivor true enough, but Eowyn has endurance. It would be a long and dready battle that's for sure, but I think Eowyn has more endurance and more force and a bit more skill with a blade. Though at the bow I think Guin wins it for sure! Eowyn was rather scary at times on the battle field. thinks of those power cries she would bellow before thrusting her sword in those ugly orcs or the Witch King's 'face' Thanks so much! I do hope to hear more from you again! I can't wait to see Legolas kick butt too! Wonder how the knights will react to his typical little stunts...

**etraya**, thanks again! Legolas is a cool character! My obsession is only with him and not OB, well ok maybe a little but it's the Elf I love! Elves are awesome! I love reading about them and their history. glows cause I just bought the Silmarillion! Thanks for reading! Hope you like this next part.

**katemary77**, glad to hear from you again! Thanks so much for reviewing! Here, I put a reminder just for you that it is a crossover! Though I can imagine how silly it would have seemed to suddenly have an Elf pop out of nowhere. I think I would have laughed too! I can see it too, though I hardly understand why anyone would refer to the cuddly elf as a monster! Shameful thought really, but Romans are Romans. They were known for their cruelty and this is almost a pre-inquisition era. Well sort of. The concept of Heresy was strong here and the Church I think was only beginning to hold sway over people. Well I hope you like this next chapter! Thanks for your review!

**Sweet A.K.**, thanks again! I'm so glad you like the story so far! I really hope I don't mess it up and disappoint everyone! I wonder how the Elf would be treated to. It's not really easy trying to figure it out. I mean they could simply be amazed and gawk at the Elf or they could see him as a threat like the Romans did and not trust him. I think I'm going for a combination of all of the above. Trying to get into Arthur's head is not very easy. With LOTR it's easier because there's all the books and so much info even though Legolas is the character with the least amount of info. Thanks so much! Hope you like this next chapter and I look forward to your thoughts on it!

**Again a great big thank you to all of you for your support and kind words!**


	5. Chapter Four

**A STRANGE FATE**

**Author's Notes:** Ack! I didn't realise that it's been so long since I updated this! Sorry to make you wait guys! Anyways, here's a new chapter and I hope the next one won't take too long... Midterms this week! Eek! Thanks for the reviews as always thank yous are at the end! As always feel free to let me know what you think, if there are any mistakes or any thing that need improving. I'm very open to receiving all sorts of constructive criticism!

**Warning:** Cross over with the Lord of the Rings :)

**Special warning:** Highly descriptive discussion about torture and pain. Don't worry, it's not gory or tasteless or too detailed I think. I'm simply saying it like it is. I apologize if this offends you. It's at the beginning, so it's easy to skip.

* * *

**Chapter Four:** _To Trust a Foe?_

Guinevere still stared at the Elf in dismay as the enigmatic creature rode off on his beloved horse when Arthur found the girl. She turned her head to face him.

"My father told me great tales of you," she began a conversation which almost recalled what Legolas had told the Roman earlier in the day. This night, the man would have much to reflect upon. Shaking his head, his gaze caught sight of Legolas riding farther behind them. An earlier conversation with Lancelot about the Elf on his horse came back to haunt him.

"What is he doing?" Lancelot had asked. "Is our pointy-eared charge mad?"

"I would not know," Arthur had answered. "Why don't you ask him?" He had offered as he side glanced at the Elf. His gaze swept over then to rest upon Guinevere who leaned, exhausted, against the carriage post. Lancelot followed his commander's gaze and almost snarled as he rode on ahead, leaving Arthur to seek the Woad girl.

"What is he doing?" Arthur repeated Lancelot's previous inquiry.

"Basking in his freedom," Guinevere replied to which Arthur nodded.

"And so he should," she continued. "He suffered so terribly at the hands of the Romans. Never before in all my life have I ever seen a living being suffer so much. And he did, believe me. I swear he took enough pain that would have killed a man thirty times over. I don't know how he survived. He wasn't meant to survive any of the torments they bestowed upon him, yet he continued to live, to our relief and their frustration. Sadly, it angered the Romans more than anything and so this only increased their cruelty."

Arthur's eyes saddened as he spared another glance for the Elf who smiled as he stroked his horse's mane. To think a being so gentle as he appeared, suffered terribly. It was insanely maddening. "What did they do?" he asked, wanting to know as much as possible. Perhaps this would help in understanding this strange but magnificent creature. His heart cringed upon waiting for what the girl would say to him next, for he knew that it would not be anything desirable to hear. His heart refused to listen, but Arthur knew that he must possess the knowledge of what occurred; it was important. Suddenly Legolas' eyes darkened and he looked up to glance from one side to another suspiciously as though he suspected he was being watched or being spoken of, Arthur could not tell.

"They tortured him," Guinevere started off simply. "Almost everyday they flogged him. More often than not, they flogged him until they exhausted themselves and another soldier would take over for the last one until they were all spent. Once, after they had torn his back to shreds, as they always did, they left him hanging from his high bonds for three days. They cut him down and broke his ankles, then forced him to walk on a carpet of shards of glass all the way back to the horrible cell where they caged him. Many times he was branded, the smell of his burnt flesh watering our eyes. I will always remember the day they drove a red metal spear through his shoulder.

"Many a night, once the soldiers had too much to drink and were weary for amusement, they would drag the Elf out of his prison and beat him senseless. Many times he was thrown back in his cell without being chained to the wall, in the hopes that he would not survive the night. But he always did. He did. And that was one of their biggest mistakes for one or two days later they would open his door and he would be ready for them. He would attack them any way he could and attempt to escape," Guinevere smiled slightly. "One time, he very nearly did, but of course he is a stranger and this land is strange to him. He was caught, every time. That is why Marius claimed he harmed many of his soldiers. They asked for it. Unfortunately this only fuelled their hatred of the Elf and they would redouble in their cruelty.

"And do you know what?" Guinevere added, her disgust thinly veiled in her voice. "Do you know how often he screamed?" Arthur shook his head, not knowing the answer. "Never. Not once did he give voice to his pain. He suffered in silence and we wept for him, we wept for his hurts. When the soldiers would be done with him, always we would go to him, and always he would smile faintly at us and refuse our help, saying simply he did not need it. He would ask me if I was alright and that I should not help him that I would need my strength in the times to come or he would ask if he could sing Lucan to sleep as he often did in the end. Lucan could not sleep if Legolas did not sing and I am certain it helped the Elf just as much as it did Lucan." Guinevere's voice wavered slightly as she retold what she witnessed. It was a horrible tale but one that needed to be told.

"And what of Alecto? He did not seem to harbour any ill will toward Legolas."

"No, not at all. I think, Alecto helped Legolas. He kept his weapons and pack safe, away from his father for surely he would have destroyed them. Many times, he would secretly come to visit the Elf and give him food and water. He could not give much nor visit too often for fear of being discovered. I don't know how, but even with very little food and water, Legolas found enough strength to live. I think his kind, the Elves, they can live for days without water and even months without food. In many ways Legolas saved Alecto and Alecto did the same for Legolas."

Arthur afforded himself a small smile, thinking of the naive Roman boy, who in many ways remind him of himself when he was younger.

"All the Roman soldiers did, it was done under orders from Marius. Though I am certain they also wanted to amuse themselves, they were stationed in the Estate for a time. To 'help with the uprising of the Woads' they would say. The soldiers were cruel enough but left much room for torment by the monks who tortured many, not just the Elf," Guinevere lowered her eyes, sparing a thought for her own torment at their vile hands. Had Arthur been closer he would have comforted the girl somehow. These new tellings burned his in the worst way. He was furious at the soldiers, furious at Marius and even more furious in thinking that his beloved Rome, its image of splendour and beauty were turning rather fell and putrid. How could citizens of such a civilised and ordered empire cause such horror? It was unthinkable. Rome's quest was meant to free mankind, not enslave them by fear of torment.

"I thank you for the information, Guinevere."

"You mean not to harm him, do you?" the girl asked with obvious fear for her companion.

Arthur shook his head. "Take heart, I wish to help him, but first, I must know who he is and what he is doing here."

Guinevere's eyes widened in apprehension. "You must not! That is what Marius wanted and look what they did to him!"

"No, no. I have no intention of using force. I would ask him questions and hopefully we can help one another. I did not save him to cause him further torment."

Reassured, Guinevere leaned back and sighed. Arthur took this as a sign to take his leave.

-

His hands were shaking. There was nothing he could do to stop the tremors no matter how hard he tried, they would not subside. Arod swished his head from side to side, indicating his annoyance with his charge's trembling.

"_Sidh, Arod. Sidh mellon nin_,"_ 'Peace Arod, peace my friend'_ he soothed the gentle beast, attempting to stroke his mane while he fought the urge to lay on his horse and rest his weary head. He was so tired, far more tired than he would have expected. It was strange and incomprehensible, he was an Elf, not a human. He should not tire so easily. He had never felt to tired before. No, that was not true. Legolas could remember a time, not so long ago, where he had felt weariness beyond all possibility. It was far worse than now, when he attempted to crawl out of the dark lands of Mordor. At least this time he was not carrying the extra weight of a body.

"_Laralen Tasarinien, meleth nin, dartho amin." 'Laralen Tasarinien, my love, wait for me'_

While he pondered his newfound frailness, Gawain and Galahad rode up next to the Elf. They had not yet noticed his shivers. Sensing two riders approaching, Legolas channelled all of his strength to suppress his tremors.

"No saddle, no bridle, no reins," Gawain began. "How do you do it? Do you use dark magic to compel your horse to keep you saddled?"

Legolas glanced at the blond haired knight, smirking ever-so slightly, it was barely noticeable and vanished in the blink of an eye so that Gawain only saw a hint of a shadow of a smile upon the elf's lips. "I trust Arod not to let me fall."

Both Gawain and Galahad exchanged glances and nodding their respective 'Ahhs'.

"That's it?" Galahad exclaimed. Legolas smiled at the young one's curiosity.

"It is the way elvish horses are bred," the Elf replied enigmatically.

"How?" the young knight pressed.

Legolas shook his head. "To be a loyal trustworthy friend rather than a mount. No, not through dark magic." The Elf answered Galahad's unspoken question.

"And since your horse was trained by Elves, you can ride him bareback?" Gawain asked.

The Elf shook his head negatively. "Arod is not elvish by breeding; we learned to trust one another with all the trials we have been through together."

"You have been through many battles together?" Galahad enquired.

"Yes," the elf responded sadly, "far too many." They rode silently a while longer, Legolas suppressed a shiver as he glanced to the forest on his right. He could feel someone watching them, or perhaps they were watching him, he could not tell.

"I feel many eyes upon us," he said to whichever knight would listen. Both heard him but Gawain offered an answer.

"Woads, they've been tracking us since before we arrived at the manor."

"Woads?"

"Yes, they are native to this land and we have been fighting them for a long time," Gawain explained. "The girl we found with you is a Woad."

"Ah," the Elf understood. "And so she is your enemy."

"Yes, I suppose," Galahad responded.

Legolas had nearly forgotten about his shaking hands, but they had not forgotten him. He had been able to suppress them, but not for long as the quivers returned to haunt him. Legolas attempted to subdue his hands imperceptibly, but Galahad, who was on his right, had noticed a while ago.

"Here." Taking the Elf's trembling hands in his, Galahad soothed and warmed them before he set them back on Arod's broad neck. "Your hands are freezing."

Smiling at Galahad's genuine concern, Legolas was grateful for the youth's kindness despite the fact that earlier in his life, Legolas would have categorically refused such help. If fact, earlier in his life, Legolas would have refused himself such a display of weakness.

"Thank you," the Elf whispered softly, almost shyly. Oddly enough he was cold, but that should not be so, since Elves were highly tolerant of severely cold weather. Perhaps he was not yet used to being outside for long periods of time, at least he was not used to be outside without being endlessly tormented. Obviously, he knew better than to find excuses and mild inconsequential explanations this way.

"It's alright," the knight said, almost as a response to Legolas' unspoken thoughts.

Bors and Dagonet rode past the trio, casting disapproving a glance at the Elf who should not be riding. Gawain and Galahad understood this as an invitation to join Arthur up ahead with the other knights.

"I think we'll be stopping soon," Gawain said to Legolas who nodded his curt reply. As the two knights rode ahead, Legolas could hear their conversation.

"I still can't believe he's riding, after the way we found him," Galahad expressed his amazement to his companion.

To which Gawain replied, "Me neither."

"And to think he rides saddleless. It's almost impossible."

"I know," the slightly elder knight replied, ending the conversation.

True to Gawain's word, the company halted their course for the day and took shelter in a broad forest. Legolas' heart sprang with joy as they entered the welcoming trees, who promised the elf to lend their safety and protection to all who travelled with him. After assuring the area's safety, the carriages were emptied and the riders descended their mounts. The Elf allowed his horse to graze wherever he wished as Legolas gathered his weapons and pack. Walking around the camp, he found a small unused water basin.

"May I borrow this?" he asked Dagonet who acquiesced immediately.

Darkness crept up, covering the woods in shadow when Legolas disappeared through the trees. He settle in a small clearing where he gathered some branches and started a fire placing the basin over the flaming wood. He filled it with snow and as it melted, slowly removed what was left of his ragged tunic. The Elf winced as he pulled his shirt over his head, stretching his shoulder blades painfully. Glancing down his back, Legolas could finally see the damage that was left behind from the Roman's last bout of cruelty. Barely healed red striped covered the Elf's back, certain welts doubled and crisscrossed. Legolas was instantly puzzled as to why the lashmarks still appeared raw and unhealed. This was not supposed to be. They should at least have begun to fade by now.

Shaking his head, he dipped his ragged shirt in the melted snow and allowed the water to run down his back and soothe his welts. However the water running down only further angered his welts since the liquid motion moved the salt imbedded in the welts. The welts had adapted to the salt that settled, but the disturbance caused an intense wave of pain for the Elf as Legolas winced sharply and swallowed the scream threatening to escape his throat. He fell to his knees and could not help the few tears that sprung from his eyes. At that moment there was a sudden memory of when those terrible injuries were last inflicted. In his mind's eyes he recalled himself lying on his stomach, leaning on his arms with his fists clenched as the Romans coarsely rubbed salt into his wounds. He remembered how hard he struggled to avoid voicing the agony they were causing him but he had been unable to stop the small torrent of tears that flowed from his eyes like the waterfalls of the river Bruinen near his favourite elven refuge.

Mixing memory and reality, the elf was lost in a sea of agony no longer recognizing what was real and what wasn't. All he knew is he wished so dearly for all of it to end. Letting his head fall on his wrists on the ground he took a few moments to calm himself and allow the pain to fade. Inhaling sharply and restoring his impassive mask of calmness, Legolas resumed the arduous task of cleansing his body from the months of defilement bestowed upon him. All the old dried blood, filth and grime that covered him were testimony to his abuse. The warm water felt immensely refreshing against his abused flesh once the salt was washed away. The ground around the Elf was now stained a reddish with all the filth and blood that was caked into his hair, his tattered clothing and his wounds.

Finally cleaned and refreshed at last, Legolas proceeded to dress himself with his spare leggings, tunic and one of his two shirts. When he had left his home initially, he knew he was on a long journey and thus had prepared accordingly. Never had he expect to be in such a need to feel the softness of his own clean cloths, to feel like himself again. As he closed the catches on his tunic, fastened his arm braces and his light shoes, Legolas already began to feel more like the Elven warrior that he was rather than some carrion collected from the bowels of Hell. Next he worked on his hair. He re-braided his hair with his usual warrior braids, his sheer locks glistened in the dim moonlight with the firelight casting his hair a darkish golden aura. Next Legolas strapped on his quiver and sheaths for his blades. Stuffing his sword at his belt and fasting his bow to his quiver, he appeared far more formidable than he had before. He was again the Elven warrior Legolas of the Nine Walkers, fighter and survivor of the terrible Battle of the Hornburg, fighter at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, honoured and acclaimed as one of the Fellowship who sought to restore peace and great friend of the King of Gondor.

Throwing his ruined clothing aside and casting out his fire, Legolas returned towards the camp where he returned the borrowed basin to Dagonet who was attempting to put Lucan, the young child rescued along with the Elf and Guinevere.

"Is all well?" Legolas asked as Lucan looked up at him with wide eyes.

Dagonet replied, "I am not certain. He fears sleeps."

Legolas bend down just over Lucan. "What is wrong, tithen min?"

"He says, he cannot sleep unless you sing to him," the knight supplied an answer.

"Can you sing, Leglass? I can't sleep in the dark without your songs," the boy wondered shyly.

"Of course, tithen min."

Lucan smiled as he allowed himself to be snuggled under Dagonet's large protective tunic which also served as a hauberk. Dagonet looked to the Elf, curious of what would next happen.

"Tonight I shall sing to you a song not of the Elves, but from one of my friends. His name is Peregrin, but we call him Pippin. You would find him a good friend I am certain." And so the Elf began to sing, his voice soft and silent at first. It seemed as though it had been a life age since Legolas had sung, but his voice found more resonance and confidence as the short song progressed.

"Home is behind, the world ahead

And there are many paths to tread

Through shadow to the edge of night

And all the stars are all alight

Mist and shadow, cloud and shade

All shall fade. All shall fade."

All those around the small trio listened with avid ears and the Elf sang his song. Certainly they were surprised at the fairness of his voice. As Legolas' voice hung on the last word and all were silent, Lucan's smile broadened. "Thank you." Just as the Elf was about to leave, the boy stopped him.

"Can you sing the starry song. You know, with the pretty words."

Legolas smiled, "Yes Lucan. For you I sign of the grace of_ the Evening Star_, the most beautiful star in the sky."

"Can you tell the story first?" the boy asked, unnoticed by the Elf, or maybe he did notice, the surrounding knights, Gawain and Galahad sitting together with Bors, Lancelot who was just caught eying the lovely Guinevere bathing with the help of Lady Fulicinia and even Arthur who remained aloof, all lent their ears, enraptured by Legolas' soothing words.

"This song is of the Evening Star, not the brightest star, but the most beautiful. It was named for a lady, the most beautiful anyone had ever seen. She was called the Evenstar. Her name is Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar of the Elves. They say she walks in the likeness of Lúthien Tinúviel, who was before Arwen, the most beautiful of the Elves until she fell in love with Beren and so sacrificed her immortality for his love for Beren was a man, a mortal. And so just as Tinúviel the fair, Lady Arwen, also made a terrible choice, to give up her immortality for the man she loves." And so the Elf began a song anew, this time in a language neither Dagonet nor the other auditors could understand.

"_Ngîl cennin eriel vi  
Menel aduial,  
Glingant sui vîr  
Síliel mae. _

Ngîl cennin firiel vi  
Menel aduial,  
Dúr, dúr I fuin

_Naenol mae."_

Even more than before, all were mesmerized by the Elf's enchanting voice. None could say if it was the effect of the mysterious language or Legolas himself, but the beautiful singing nearly brought tears to the eyes of its audience. Legolas sang the last words sadly.

"_An I ú nathant_

_An I naun ului_

_A chuil, anann cuiannen_

_A meleth, perónen"_

By the end of his song, Lucan had long ago fallen asleep, but the Elf still pressed to complete

his song. Maybe it was for those listening or maybe it was for himself, none could tell for the Elf sang with his eyes closed, ignoring the world around him. Though certainly none would forget that voice and that singing, after the song ended there was not a sound. Even the wind in the trees stilled and the fire quieted its crackling to a mere whisper to hear the Elf sing.

Dagonet looked upon Legolas in amazement. "That was," the gentle knight could not find words to describe his sentiments. "That was, the singing. I have never heard a voice like yours."

Legolas stopped the man. "Thank you. It is not so fair, really. All Elves can sing, it was gift given to us. There are those whose voice would send you floating across your dreams so beautiful they are. Alas I am but a poor interpreter of greater things."

"I would not say so. You have done a great deed. You have given so much to help him," Dagonet said of Lucan who know slept peacefully.

"I fear it was not enough," Legolas said casting his eyes down.

"No, it was more than you think," Dagonet reaffirmed.

The Elf smiled softly before swiftly vanishing into the darkness of the night.

-

**Here are the lyrics to the Elvish song which you can hear on the ROTK soundtrack...**

"I saw a star rise high in the  
Evening sky,  
It hung like a jewel,  
Softly shining.

I saw a star fade in the  
Evening sky,  
The dark was too deep and so light died,  
Softly pining.

For what might have been,  
For what never was.  
For a life, long lived  
For a love half given"

-

**Now for some thank yous!**

**Camreyn**, thanks for reviewing and reminding me that I needed to update! Thanks! Hmm is Aragorn the man in the first chapter... Well I don't know! ;). Thanks so much hope you like this next chapter!

**katemary77**, hey! Thanks for asking for the elvish! O fair Mortal Being! I fixed all of it as you saw I hope! I do have the intention of explaining what the heck is that 'pointy eared elvish princeling' doing in Briton... as soon as I figure out how. I mean I know how, sort of. I just have to work the kinks out... I'm thrilled to see that you like the story so far! I hope I don't disappoint later on! Hannon le!

**camlann**, thanks for your review! I saw that you updated your story today. I will need to go check it out... I'll drop in a review or two when I do! I'm also waiting for Tristan and Legolas to have a little chat, you can see that coming pretty clearly, eh? Post your LOTR story! I'd read it! What's it about? Without giving away the story? 'Bout Legolas? Or someone else? I have a soft spot for Aragorn and Legolas friendship fics, they're so great! Well a lot of them are! Thanks!

**Amanda**, you think it was ok? Thanks so very much! I try to put as much integrity as possible in the stories. I aim for realism, especially with crossovers, you want people to almost believe that it's possible for an elf to be in 5th century Briton. Thanks so very much! Hope to hear from you again soon!

**etraya**, thank you! I'm so glad you like the story! beams I try to write as best I can! Hope you like this next chapter and I hope to hear from you soon!

**Dazzler420**, Thanks! It's true, eh? There are so many things one can do with a story like this! This can also lead to readers making their own ideas and getting disappointed with what's going on.. I hope that won't be the case! Will Tristan be jealous of Legolas? Hmm, well Tristan is used to being the best... Will he cope with being second best? I guess we'll see! I haven't found my Tristan quite just yet, it will depend where he leads me... let's just say that his fair lady with be unfaithful... ;) Thank you so so much for always reviewing! Look forward to hearing from you!

**Thanks again to everyone for their support!**


	6. Chapter Five

**A STRANGE FATE**

**Author's Note :** Hi guys! Well here's the next part! Thanks so so much for all your wonderful reviews! I really appreciate your words of encouragement and look forward to hearing more from you guys! As always replies are at the end. Feel free to let me know of any mistakes I might have made! Thanks!

**Warning** : Cross over with the Lord of the Rings :)

* * *

**Chapter Five: **_The Hawk's Eye_

Legolas grabbed hold of the first branch in his sight. Pulling himself up, the Elf climbed up the tall tree to perch himself on the highest branch that could hold him. There was something formidable about looking over the cover of the vast forest. From his position, he could see far ahead. From his high perch, Legolas could also breath in the cool fresh air and look up at the stars he missed so much. His keen eyes searched the sky for the one star he knew he could always depend on. It took a long time since, in this strange land the sky seemed different, but he found it at last! Eärendil, the brightest of all stars, often commonly known to men as the North Star. Still when Legolas felt alone or in great need, he had always looked upon the great star for reassurance and guidance.

"When the road home is long and hard and you cannot see the end, Eärendil will shine for you and light the path home," Legolas' brother would always say, words he said came from their mother. The Elf smiled fondly as he cherished the memories he still held of the family he missed so much.

After a moment of reflection the Elf felt the need to move on through the trees. Legolas balanced himself on the branch where he was perched and hopped to the next tree. He closed his eyes and allowed his senses to take over and guide him through the thick canopy of trees as he traversed the great forest. It felt immensely wonderful for him to taste his freedom so. His need to feel the wind on his face and the sound of trees brushing past him was even greater than he had initially imagined.

Branch by branch the Elf leapt through the forest as high and as far as he could go with no particular destination in mind, but then his sharp ears detected unnatural sounds, a constant rhythm slowly creeping closer. It was a tiny sound, so faint he knew that no human could hear it at this point, even if he tried. Yet still the sound was there, ever so constant.

Drums.

He had only heard this particular sound once, but Legolas knew nonetheless who it was that followed.

The Saxons were coming.

—

The tension had risen to a new unparalleled height. Never before had he felt the sting of betrayal as strongly as he did now. Fortunately that sting only lasted a fleeting moment until it dulled to a minor throb. Upon seeing his sworn enemy, Artorius had swiftly unsheathed Excalibur and raised it towards Merlin. Initially Arthur had felt betrayed by Guinevere who had led the Roman to the Woad leader, but the elderly man was not there to cause disorder; this night he meant no harm.

"That sword you carry is made of iron from this earth, forged in the fires of Britain. It was love of your mother that freed the sword, not hatred of me. _Love_, Arthur." Arthur was leaving when Merlin spoke these words. The soldier paused a moment, but was ready to resume his departure when the Woad spoke further, words that instantly caused the man to stop again, turn around and listen to what Merlin had to say.

"You have among you a strange being, an Elf."

Arthur did not answer but his widened eyes spoke volumes of the surprise he felt.

"I know of him," Merlin continued. "I have strayed into the lands where his kind is known. It was long ago, in a place called," the Woad thought for a moment, recalling the place his mind was searching for.

"Rohan," he said at last. "This Rohan was a country of knights and there were only a few of these Elves. The Elf you have with you, he was there. He was one of the Nine, they would say. When I was there, there was a great celebration in a castle called Meduselde. A great king was honoured there and the people spoke of a Fellowship that was also highly honoured."

"Where is this place? This Rohan you speak of? How did you get there?" Arthur pressed the man for further information on the Elf's place of origin.

"It is a place far from here, this I know. 'Tis a beautiful, peaceful land of rolling hills, vast luscious forests and mountains as far as the eye can see. I found myself in Rohan by accident I do not recall how I came to be. I was welcomed there as one of their own. These Rohirrim, as they are called, were very open to strangers, at least on that day. I believe they thought me to be what they called 'Wild Men'. I stayed not long, but I saw the Elf, saw how he was revered by the others around him."

"What you saw of him is correct," added Guinevere. "He shall be useful to you, Arthur, a loyal ally."

Arthur did not reply, but he nonetheless kept this new information and would reflect upon it. There was much to think of this night. Merlin had just proposed a new alliance with the Woads that defied everything he and his knights had fought for in the last fifteen years and that thought alone would derail the knights of everything they stood for. Again he could see the world shift before his eyes and his world was being turned upside down.

Then there was the Elf. Legolas appeared even more of a mystery to him now. The need to speak with him was even more pressing. As Arthur entered the camp, he would find him now, but where was the Elf? He was not in the camp. Arthur tried to remember when last he saw Legolas. The Elf was still there when he left; he was with Dagonet who was now sound asleep. The Elf was no where to be found!

Arthur seethed in anger as he rounded the camp, searching for Legolas, but it was too dark and too late in the night to go after him now. At least Tristan was out in the wild and he was the best tracker Arthur knew. It brought some small comfort to the man, knowing that perhaps Tristan would find the Elf, but what were the odds?

"Some loyal ally he is!" Arthur thought as he laid in his bedroll for the night.

—

Tristan had just finished lighting his small fire when he strained his ear.

No sound.

The Saxons had finally stopped for the night, but not for long, he knew this much. Now was the time to track them. The scout knew he had but two to three hours at the most; he must not tarry. Glancing at the new blazes of his small fire, Tristan regretfully extinguished it. No rest for the weary scout, this night. Looking in the direction of his fellow knights' camp, he peered closer in the trees when he was certain something rather odd had caught his eye. He could have sworn he saw a faint blue light glimmering from one tree to another, but before he could think on it, the glimmer faded out.

Shaking his head and wondering on his sanity due to his self-imposed sleep deprivation, Tristan slowly prepared to leave and track the Saxons. He started to proceed Northeast, towards the Saxons and travelled a considerable distance until he suddenly stopped. An odd feeling prickled in the back of his neck sending out tiny signals of alarm. He turned around swiftly and nearly gasped as he found himself face to face with the Elf.

"You!" Tristan snarled in an attempt to hide his disquiet for being taken by surprise, something he was not used to, since he was the one who always took others by surprise. "How did you get here?" he spoke sharply, unsheathing his sword. He did not enjoy the feeling of not having heard the Elf arrive. "You seek to betray Arthur!"

Legolas said not a word, but stared at the knight curiously.

"What are you doing here? Answer me!" Tristan snapped, raising his sword to the Elf's neck, his eyes flashing dangerously. "No one betrays Arthur and lives to speak of it. I could kill you where you stand."

Legolas stared at the scout unmoved but his threat. "Then do so," he said simply.

Without needing any other incentive, Tristan pulled his curved blade back and let it fall down towards the Elf. He did not strike a killing blow, but let the blade rest a mere half inch from the soft flesh of Legolas neck, who had not moved nor flinched in the slightest. He did not react in any way to Tristan's offense. This greatly perturbed the knight who did not expect the Elf to remain motionless, without any attempt to defend himself. Slightly in awe, Tristan pulled his sword back and sheathed it.

"Leave," he urged simply.

Nodding politely towards the knight, Legolas turned around and walked away. Somewhat trapped between relief and regret, Tristan turned hi back to the Elf and was about to resume his march. Strangely, he somehow felt guilty for turning him away. Maybe it was the way he did not react to his attack, or simply that the knight did not understand how it was that Legolas was able to surprise him so. He sighed, maybe the Elf really did not mean any harm, still that did not explain what he was doing so far away from camp.

Resolved, Tristan turned around to call the Elf back but was once again dumbfounded. He could not see Legolas, the Elf had completely disappeared without a sound nor a trace.

"Elf?" Tristan's voice sounded so small as he found himself suddenly alone. There was no answer but eerie sound of trees and snow whispering in the wind. "Elf?" the knight repeated with more force in his voice this time.

"_Im si."(I am here)_ A small melodious yet mischievous voice floated back to him. Tristan turned around in a circle, not certain where the answer was coming from. It sounded as though the sound came from all around him and haunted like in a dream.

"_Tiro ned galadh," (Look in the trees)_ the soft voice said again and this time Tristan looked up, but he still did not now where.

"Where are you?"

"Right here." Now Tristan could tell where the voice came from. He stepped forward, the Elf was right in front of him, he knew it.

There was a faint rustle of leave and Tristan jumped back when he heard a voice loud and clear coming from right behind him. "You wished for me to leave and so I did."

The knight turned around and gasped as he saw the Elf dangling from a tree upside down.

"I knew you could not be trusted!" he growled angrily.

"Humans are terribly puzzling, " Legolas said as he hopped off the tree and brushed his clothing. "First, you wished for me to leave, now you want me to stay." These words seemed to have calmed Tristan, he had to admit the Elf was slightly amusing. " And they say: 'Never go to the Elves for counsel'!"

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"Because they shall say both yes and no."

Tristan raised his brow, perplexed. Hmm, saying both yes and no, would not be helpful in a time of need. He tried to imagine Arthur asking the Romans for counsel, they often said yes, then no. Interesting.

The scout snapped out of his thoughts and creased his brow, which gave him a menacing animalistic look. "Why are you here?" he asked Legolas again. "Are you planning on joining the Saxons?"

"Yes and no," the Elf replied cheekily, his eyes twinkling with barely concealed amusement. Tristan repressed a smirked, and tensed up. How was it the Elf could so easily pierce through him like a shred of cloud?

Legolas explained, "It depends you see, maybe these Saxons they fight for a worthy cause."

"You would betray Arthur? After all he has done for you?" Tristan roared, abhorred by the Elf's flagrant admission of deceit. "These Saxons kill everyone and destroy everything!"

The Elf shook his head. "I would never betray Arthur. I swore an oath to him and to that I hold. I feel the heart of these Saxons are fell and they do mean great harm. No, better I would die than betray Arthur and his knights. I am indebted to them."

"Then why not stay with the others?" Tristan pressed. "Why come here?"

"I sought refuge in the trees. I am curious about these Saxons, I can see they inspire much fear within your hearts and so I wished to see them for myself."

"To join them?" the scout unsheathed his blade once again.

Legolas resisted the urge to sigh. "No," he paused. A screech ripped through the air as a hawk gracefully landed between Tristan and the Elf. Her beady eyes peered deeply into Legolas' as if she was exchanging thoughts with him. She cocked her head to the side, a gesture meaning she was curious about this mysterious being. Cautiously, she hopped forward, towards the Elf who crouched down and offered his arm to her.

Tristan observed silently, torn between curiosity and betrayal for his bird's unexpected actions. It was not like her to go anywhere near strangers, or even the other knights. Until then, she had only kept to Tristan, unless he bid her otherwise which only happened rarely, if ever at all.

The hawk accepted the Elf's offer and climbed his arm. Legolas stood to his full height, effortlessly holding the hawk. She nipped at his cheek and cooed in hear ear as Legolas spoke softly to her. "_Bain moerilind, bereth o menel, Lúthien Tínnuviel, bain Heryn o Rovail, Minuial_." _(Beautiful nightingale, queen of the sky, lady of charm and twilight, fair lady of wings, first twilight)_

Enchanted by the Elf's words, the hawk cooed adoringly and rubbed her head underneath his chin. Legolas smiled and released the hawk and she flew back to her rightful place.

Tristan glared daggers at the hawk but she kept her head high, almost challenging him with her dark eyes. "You betrayed me," he whispered, slightly hurt. The hawk squawked back defensively. The knight snarled and made to walk away. Despite her apparent infidelity, her actions belied something of a particular interest to the knight. Never before had she approached a stranger. If Tristan was mindful with whom he chose to speak, the hawk was downright sceptical and mistrustful of others. Both had trust in barely a handful of people, with Tristan being the sole person the hawk trusted, that is, until now.

Wether the scout liked it or not, this said much of the Elf. Tristan had observed the interaction and was admittedly impressed by sway Legolas held over the hawk. Decidedly she trusted and liked him. This thought put the knight at east, somewhat. If the hawk trusted the Elf, then why would he not give him at least a chance. Besides, Tristan smirked, if there was any sign of trouble, it would be a nice throat to slit.

"Come, if you want to find the Saxons before they start moving again, we had better hurry."

Legolas nodded. "Yes, indeed."

"They are not far, come. But keep this in mind, if you show just a hint that you would betray us, I swear I shall not hesitate to kill you."

"Nor should you," the Elf replied solemnly. "If I am to betray any of you, you would have more than enough reason to strike me down. I would expect nothing else, I would think less of you if you would not do so."

Together they journeyed in silence, the scout and the Elf, until at last they reached the Saxons' encampment. It was not exceptionally far from Tristan's former location. Under the cover of the trees, the pair sneaked up on the camp and observed the Saxons as they sat around fires drinking, eating or sleeping, while sentinels kept watch for any intruders. The Elf and scout remained unnoticed in the woods, Legolas had drawn up his hood and even Tristan could barely be made out concealed in the darkness as he was. Legolas motioned to Tristan and whispered softly, "Climb." Silently and effortlessly, Legolas climb up the nearest tree with Tristan slowly following him. The knight was quite good as climbing trees indeed, but he did not bear the agility and swiftness of the Elf.

"How do you climb so fast?" the knight asked as he reached the Elf's perch, panting slightly.

Legolas grinned. "I am a Wood-Elf," he replied plainly as though the tiny answer explained everything. Tristan shrugged at the answer, mildly amused by its simplicity, it actually did explain much. From this vantage point, they could survey the entire camp.

"Ah, so these are the Saxons who threaten this land," Legolas breathed.

"Yes, let's see how easily they die," Tristan countered, taking his sword out and eying them carefully.

"There," he pointed down towards a small group of warriors breaking away to the Northwest, further away from the scout and Elf. "Them."

"No," Legolas shook his head. "Do not allow yourself to be ensnared on their territory. Let them come to us."

Tristan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but noted the practicality of such a strategy. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, trying to be rid of the sleep that attempted to invade him. Now was not the time for the scout to be sleepy and have his judgement clouded by the desire to rest. Nodding towards the Elf, they waited for another bait to present itself. They did not need to wait long, for moments later a group of ten or so Saxons were marching in their direction.

"Them," Tristan pointed towards the group to which Legolas nodded. Silently the pair slid down the tree and hid themselves behind the treeline, waiting for the ill-fated Saxons to cross their path.

——

**katemary77**, I want one too! Where do you think we can get a Legolas? Or three? I'm glad the translations helped! Thanks for always reviewing! I look forward to hearing from you again! Hope you like this next chapter!

**dw**, thank you! Hope to hear from you again!

**tenshikoneko03**, shudders at the though of anyone being skinned alive Ouch! I wouldn't want to go against you! Thanks! Did Legolas sail to Valinor? Well I can't answer that! At least not now... but soon! Give it about 2 more chapters and you'll know how the elf got there... well that's even **if** the elf knows how he got there! Thanks for your review!

**Camryen**, thank you! I'm glad you liked the mix between dark horror and sweet lullabies. I have to admit I didn't think of it, it just turned out that way! What guy from the first chapter:grins: To answer your other question, I'm pretty much going to follow the movie for now. I'm adding stuff here and there, maybe a few 'extra scenes' and when we get to the end, well we'll see what's going to happen... who knows for sure? I don't even know... Thanks again!

**Dazzler420**, hi:blush: aw thanks! I really appreciate your input... as for seeing your elf (ahem! He's mine! My own... my precious!) in action... well that's next! I can't wait either! It should be lots of fun! Thanks for always reviewing! I really appreciate it!

**Norian Mauro**, wow. Thank you very much for your vote of confidence! I very much appreciate your thoughts and I look forward to hearing more from you! Oh and cool name! Again my most humble thanks.

**Celebel**, no, thank you for letting me know you like the story so far! I appreciate your review and I look forward to knowing what you think of this next chapter! Thanks very much!

**ambereyes2873**, thank you for reviewing! I love Legolas too! I don't know why, but I couldn't stop picturing him in KA. I hope I can do Legolas justice! Thanks again! Hope to hear from you again!

, Hi dot! I'm glad you think this story is different! I like to differentiate! I hope you like this next chapter! Thank you!

**MyDearDelirious**, I'm absolutely thrilled to know you like this story! I hope you like what you read! Thanks!

**Skystrike26**, phew! I almost forgot to respond to your review! So sorry about that! Thank you for reviewing! I hope this next chapter doesn't disappoint you! Thanks!

—

**Again thanks everyone! Even those who didn't review! **


	7. Chapter Six

**A STANGE FATE**

**Author's note: **It's been a long time I know! Ugh! I'm so sorry guys! What can I say, it's been a pretty busy few months. I went on holidays in Spain, then I came back to finish my last semester in Uni, wrote my finals and now I have more time to devote to writing. Now, if only I can keep my muses busy and me writing away we should be fine. Again, I do apologize.

On a more important note, I have the intention of making mild revisions to the whole of the story. I found a new direction which should help with the LOTR/King Arthur context. I won't say more for now, it will be more relevant in the next chapter. Let's hope it won't take as long this time! Thanks for all the reviews! Thank yous are at the end as usual!

_Chapter Six: Frozen Fear_

_

* * *

_

_One. Two. Three. _

_Breath in, breath out. Breath in, breath out. _

No matter how many battles he fought, or how many times he stood on the brink of confrontation, waited for the first kill, for blood lust to take over his senses, Legolas could never quite settle with the concept of taking away life. It was not that he was incapable of being a fierce warrior, quite the contrary; the Elf was a formidable fighter well versed in the art of killing, his skills honed to perfection. He never felt at ease killing men, especially men he knew so little of, but it was not difficult to leave them to their many troubles. Certainly he had done his fair share of slaying before and there was a time he could not have cared less about the fate of men. He did not care any more of them than he did of the horrible giant spiders that once infested his land. Once he thought as many Elves thought, that men were a plague to be rid of, that men were nothing more than a nuisance that destroyed more than anything, much like Dwarves. However over the years and with the help of exceptional humans, his perception of mankind changed and he knew then he had erred in his evaluation of humanity. Though he sometimes disagreed with their ways, it was not natural for him to kill humans. He was used to fighting against being of far less than savoury nature.

Before him and Tristan the Saxons neared, oblivious to their presence. So close they were now, Legolas could smell the ale on their breath. _Just a few more steps._ Looking to the scout, the Elf could discern behind the calm eyes and stoic façade the same fear he felt, but it was overshadowed by a feral gleam in his eye and a faint hint of a smile on the side of his lips. Yes, Legolas knew this man hid his fear expertly behind a mask of fierceness, behind the euphoria and ecstasy of killing. Just a few more steps and then Legolas' killer instincts would take over and the Elf would not need to feel the extent of his actions. Yes, just as soon as the Saxons were past them, they would attack.

A small shudder rippled through Tristan's spine. He was not nervous, nor was he afraid; it was simply that he could never be rid of the tension knotting in his stomach. He glanced at Legolas, wondering if the Elf felt anything akin to fear. His face was impassive, calm, fearless, and unreadable. Was he afraid? Tristan could not tell, though he did wonder, could the Elf fight? True, he did witness how flawlessly Legolas had unarmed the mercenary who had threatened him and that was done when the Elf had just emerged from the dark prison, still weak and injured but was he a capable warrior? Or would he get them both killed?

Tristan smiled ruefully. Oddly, his thoughts brought him back to the first time he had ever killed. He had been young, much too young to understand the full effect of such a terrible act. He had seen death before. Oh yes, he knew death very well, but he had never been on the giving end. He was a small child like many others, unjustly plucked from his home to fight for a world he could not care less of. He has never forgotten the look of surprise that crossed the man's face as Tristan had plunged his sword in his chest. Young Tristan had staggered back just as shocked, if not more as the man who had the youth's blade protruding from his chest. Falling to his knees, Tristan could do nothing but stare in horror at what he had done. He was responsible for the blood that flowed from the man's wound and his agonized cries of pain as the light faded from his eyes. It was Tristan's hand that caused this. He remembered the bitter tears he had wept that night, how he had cried himself to sleep. It was in this moment that he realized the power he beheld in his hand, the power to take life away. The pain would only worsen, he deemed, and so Tristan had concluded there was no room for emotions. He could not allow himself to feel lest his heart would perish from the grief these deaths would cause. Thus, the would-be scout trained himself to let go of his feelings. With every death he cause, a thin sheet of ice covered his heart and the knight no longer felt anything, no hate, no love, no sorrow, no pain, no joy save for the savage pleasure he felt from killing his prey. And so with each new kill, Tristan sought new thrills and new methods to renew his euphoria and hone his killing and tracking skills to become the perfected assassin he was. Many lives he had taken over the years, and with each one he took, a small part of his soul died along with it, chipping away at it piece by piece, each new death eating away his soul. After fifteen years, he had become a rather soulless, cold killer feared by all, even his closest comrades at times, with nothing more to live for the thrill of the chase and the sweet taste of victory.

Once again, Tristan looked to Legolas and nodded. It was time; the Saxons had passed the point of no return. Silently notching their bows, they waited. Legolas having no arrows of his own borrowed three from the scout.

Legolas and Tristan did not need to exchange words as the Saxons were in place. They nodded to one another and on a count of three they slid behind the Saxons, ready to take them by surprise. Slightly drunk and feeling far too safe on their own territory, the Saxons never expected the unmistakable swift twang of a bow and certainly did were not prepared for the arrows that spiralled perfectly towards them. Instantly, four Saxons fell dead. Those who were not hit by the excellent marksmen immediately sobered and unsheathed their blades to meet the oncoming attack. Too close for his bow, Tristan cast it aside and took his curved sword out of its scabbard, the blade thirsting for its first taste of Saxon blood. He ran towards them his sword raised high and exquisitely cut through them like shards of silk.

Legolas for his part did not discard his bow. A soldier charged for him smugly, his axe rose to cleave the Elf. Knowing he was too close to fire his arrow, Legolas used it as a dagger and pierced his target through the eye, ending his brief existence on this earth. The dead Saxon's companion saw the way the fearsome elf killed his friend and retreated in fear, but he was not granted life as Legolas un-plucked the arrow from the dead Saxon and in a flash fired it at his companion. The arrow was fired so powerfully, it went through the base of his skull as though it was a thin mist and killed another Saxon who did not have time to watch his comrade die as the arrow landed in its final resting place, solidly embedded in his throat. Neither man had even seen the arrow fly towards them.

Tristan noticed the Elf's triple kill, out of the corner of his eye. For a brief moment he stopped and stared at the feral murderous glare in Legolas' eyes. Undoubtedly impressed the scout pressed his opponents faster and killed another two. Legolas unsheathed his twin blades and cut his opponent's throat so quickly, the dying man never saw the flash of mental out of the Elf's scabbard. Before long there were no Saxons left to fight, the Elf and scout were now only accompanied by a pile of corpses littered on the ground before them. Panting heavily, Tristan collected a Saxon crossbow and wiped his blade clean all the while keeping his eyes on the Elf, still not trusting him fully.

Legolas winced slightly as he rotated his shoulder softly, checking the muscle for any strain the skirmish might have caused. He nodded satisfactorily, for now there was pain but it was not overwhelming; the Elf could live with it. He felt a pair of eyes on him and knew the knight was curious, even though he would not admit to it. Legolas turned to Tristan and acknowledged him.

The scout shifted his weight, his lip twitching. Not being at ease with speech, he did not voice the lingering question on his mind, "How do you do that?" he wanted to ask of the Elf's archery prowess.

Momentarily, Tristan's eyes flashed briefly with unbound interest. It was not unnoticed by Legolas who slightly smiled.

Shrugging, the Elf slung his bow over his shoulder before casting a long glance at the scout. He was exhausted and vainly attempting to hide it. But Legolas knew better as he shook his head, how Tristan reminded him of another he knew. Behind the wild hair and tainted skin of his cheekbones, the elf could detect many resemblances to another human who would more often than not neglect his well being. Ah yes, Legolas could see the stubbornness and worn endurance behind those skilful eyes and callused archer hands. He also knew that this ranger would hate to hear the words the Elf knew he needed to say. The scout was spent beyond his measure and certainly Legolas could see the determination in his eyes. Legolas knew this man would refuse to allow himself to rest, especially in his presence since the scout's distrust of the Elf was still apparent and vividly so. No, this was a man accustomed to pushing himself far past his limits, unwilling to risk his comrades' lives; that was something Legolas respected immensely. Still, the elf thought it best to at least mention the thought of rest, but he knew it would be in vain since all men are alike and in this the Elves resemble men in the most uncanny fashion. Men were full of pride, priding themselves on being strong and unaffected by anything, whether it be a conscious pride or unconscious. The mere thought of rest for many is for them a terrible insult.

As the Elf was about to suggest a brief respite, a cry screeched through the air as Tristan's hawk reappeared before them. The scout could easily read the bird's message as could Legolas. The Saxons were searching for their missing comrades. They had no time to remain here. Tristan and Legolas moved out towards the knight's small camp where his mare awaited him. They were both exhausted beyond words, though neither would admit it. Tristan knew they were considerably far from the Saxons here and safe for the moment. His eyes were closing by themselves and he could barely carry his own weight. It angered him to be so tired in front of the Elf and he did not wish to rest and him a chance to slit his throat. However, Tristan also knew he needed a few moments to regain some strength so did Legolas who slightly favoured his left shoulder. Wordlessly both agreed to rest for a little while, Legolas relieved he did not have to confront the scout and also because he needed a little rest as well. Tristan leaned against a tree, breathing raggedly with his eyes closed. Legolas took the time to gather long and narrow branches to replenish his quiver. The small monotonous movements required to fletch arrows was so effortless for the Elf; he was able to rest at the same time.

After little more than an hour of resting, Tristan, who had slept with one eye open, stared openly at Legolas who now had a full quiver. The Elf noticed the scout and offered a tiny smile. Tristan stretched, his small respite having refreshed him immensely. "We should return to camp and advise Arthur…"

Tristan never got to finish his sentence as Legolas unexpectedly felt a dreadful sensation overcome him and doubled over. For a few moments he remained unmoving, his eyes closed in deep concentration. Tristan did not say anything but creased his brow in concern.

Legolas knelt on the ground his hands touching the icy earth as though he could read signs in the snow. Looking up towards the scout he spoke, "A shadow and a threat have been growing in my mind. There is trouble afoot."

"The Saxons," Tristan shrugged knowingly.

"It is not the Saxons that worry me. No, the threat is not here, not now. Something festers in the hearts of idle men. I fear if we do not return to the camp before dawn there shall be a terrible occurrence," he said just before jumping in the trees and disappearing in their foliage. Tristan groaned as he got up and prepared to mount his horse. Dawn was upon them, and he knew they had no time. Then a sound far more chilling than Legolas' warning came to his ears. Drums. The Saxons were closing in on them. They truly had no time. Shaking his head, he urged his mare into a run as he raced to get to Arthur in time.

- - - -

It was a cold morning. The snow had ceased the previous evening, allowing a deep chill to set in. Legolas reached the large encampment and was disturbed by the sound of the uproar that stirred the camp awake. Upon the sight, Legolas closed his eyes, pained at the sound of that terrible and annoying voice.

"_Legolas of the Elves, from this moment forth, the Holy Court finds you guilty of Heresy, of disrupting the Estate of Marius Honorius and corrupting Rome's youth."_

_Legolas could barely stand on his own as he faced the grievously deceitful face of Marius. He had been badly beaten only moments before he was clamped into heavy chains and dragged to the court. The mercenaries and guards jeered at the Elf and mocked him for this was meant to be his day of trial before the God's holy spokesman._

"_You are hereby sentenced to die by fire in the main court one month and one half from here. Until then the Holy Court deems it just for you to be purified through pain until you are forthcoming in admitting your sins and full of repentance for your heinous crimes. For your insolence and lack of respect towards the Holy Court this day and all days past, you shall be flogged until your back is bereft of any flesh. Any reaction from you and your penalty shall be administered to other serfs and their children," Marius threatened, knowing full well and exploiting the Elf's weakness for protecting others while not caring for his own fate. "Take it away!"_

"_No! You cannot do this! He is innocent! He has done nothing wrong!"_

"_Silence girl or you shall share his fate!" Marius declared heartlessly to a girl kneeling before him, hands shackled, dress torn and face dirty._

"_Guinevere, be silent," Legolas shouted at the girl. "This is not your fight. I will not have you sacrifice yourself for my sake. It is not worth it!"_

"_No," Guinevere cried her eyes brimming with desperate tears as the Elf was clubbed and roughly dragged out of the court, "Legolas!"_

_Tears spilled down her cheeks as she turned to face Marius Honorius. "You monster! How dare you accuse him of crimes he knows nothing about! He is innocent and has done nothing but good since he came here! If there is one guilty of horrible crimes it is your Rome! They take away lands that are not theirs and torment their people. And you! You condemn the innocent and hurt them for your own pleasure!" she accused fervently._

_Marius waved his hand in dismissal. "I have heard enough. Vile sinner you will share the monster's fate. For being accomplice to the Abomination's necromancy and your shameless adulterous attack on God's spokesman, I sentence you to death in the lower prison. May the time you spend rotting in the darkness, reveal to you your wicked ways and you may repent for your sins and save your soul."_

"_No!" Guinevere shouted as she was dragged away to join Legolas and later the boy Lucan would come to be in the terrible prison._

Legolas opened his eyes. The harsh memories of his stay at Marius' estate bit harder than he presumed. Especially now as he waited in the shadows staring at the man holding young Lucan at knife point, threatening the knights to end the boy's life. Silently he crept behind Marius as the Roman taunted the knights. Unnoticed, it was relatively easy for the Elf to slide his hand to grab hold of Marius' wrist and pull the blade away from Lucan's throat. It was unfortunate for Legolas that he was behind Marius, for he missed the Roman's look of complete surprise which, had the situation not be so dire, would have made not only the Elf burst into laughter but the knights as well, who very nearly did.

Legolas did not want to kill the man, it was not in his nature to kill in cold blood, but the temptation was very hard to resist. He looked around at all the eyes rested on him. All were watching him, serfs, peasants, mercenaries, knights, all waiting for him to make a move. Legolas' eyes passed further until they fixed on Alecto, who stared back at him, apprehension and worry etched on his face. No, Legolas would not be the one who would take Alecto's father away from him. The Elf's conviction wavered. Most probably the man deserved to die for all the pain he caused, but Legolas kept his eyes on Alecto's face. So much of himself did he see in the boy, so much. The spell was broken from the Elf's musing when Marius' harsh voice rung in his ears.

"What are you waiting for, stupid creature! You are no less worthless that those serfs! Weak fool, you can't even kill me!" he began to laugh.

Fortunately, Legolas' moral dilemma was cut short when an arrow struck the man in the heart. Swiftly, the Elf back away and stood up in one fluid motion as Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere appeared in the clearing. All at once, knights and serfs present breathed one collective sigh of relief. Tristan arrived moments later, with news that Legolas should not be far behind, and flung the crossbow he carried at Arthur's feet. He nearly staggered back in shock when he saw it was plainly obvious the Elf had arrived considerably sooner and on foot no less.

Despite this bit of surprise for the scout he still advised Arthur to leave swiftly. There was no time indeed. The sound of drums could be heard not so far away. The knights busied themselves with the preparations to depart, the peasants and serfs requiring additional coverings to protect them against the bitter cold. As they prepared to leave the encampment, Legolas felt a pair of familiar eyes burning into his back. He turned to meet Arthur's stern glare evenly, but could not tell if the man's eyes were filled with anger or relief. Perhaps both, men could be rather complicated beings at times, just like the Elves they say. Shaking his head and ignoring the Roman commander's gaze for the moment, Legolas mounted Arod while Guinevere passed him, shivering wildly as she climbed into the wagon nearby. Legolas approached the freezing girl who rubbed her arms briskly looking for heat.

"Here," he said as he removed the cloak he wore and draped it around her barely covered icy shoulders.

"I thank you, Legolas, but you need it more than I," Guinevere replied, though grateful for the still warm fabric which offered an abundance of heat.

"I think not," Legolas appeased, knowing he did not need the cloak.

"But Legolas, it is freezing!" she exclaimed worriedly over the light shirt and tunic the Elf wore. Surely such light garments would freeze him to death.

"Do not worry Guinevere; the cold has no effect on me. I assure you."

"You are certain?" Guinevere noted that, though she was much warmer now, the Elf had not given a single hint that he missed the cloak, not one single shiver.

"Yes," Legolas affirmed confidently.

"Thank you," she smiled at the Elf, looking at him up and down. Since he no longer wore his cloak, she was now able to notice Legolas' refreshed appearance and clean clothing. "You have changed this pass night. You look different somehow, better, like the Elf warrior I remember," she said, her voice veiled with hinted amusement.

"I should hope so. I do feel more like an Elf than some useless carrion."

"Well you are a far cry from the boy I helped out of the prison just two days past," Lancelot said with a smirk as he rode up next to the pair. "Now all we need to know is if you can actually fight."

"I fear you shall find out soon enough," the Elf replied grimly.

Lancelot cocked his head to one side and pondered this and he rode away to join Arthur at the head of the procession. He still did not trust Legolas. There was something unnatural about him, something odd. Guinevere laughed lightly as she watched him go away. Turning to Legolas, her laughter turned into a wide grin. There was no doubt in the Elf's mind, the girl was happy. She nodded to the Elf, content she had completed an act her heart yearned to accomplish for a very long time now, something for all of them. Legolas returned the nod, but was uncertain how he should be feeling, relief or remorse.

- - - -

Drums. Drums. The sound was incessantly growing louder, spreading shreds of fear with every beat.

The Saxons were very close now.

Legolas could almost catch wisps of their Saxons battle cries and commands, but his ears were strained to hear a conversation of far more importance. Tristan was next to Arthur explaining to him their need to cross the great imposing lake they were facing. Legolas knew same as Tristan, there was no other way.

Legolas observed the two knights and listened to them. He knew there was no way for them to escape should they choose another path; it was far too late to turn back now. The Saxons were so close now; Legolas knew he could hear them speak. They could not evade the Saxons in any direction, in fact, to Tristan's lack of knowledge, not even this one. Legolas understood they had reached a turning point where they had no choice but to confront them. The feared enemy would reach them one way or another. Better sooner than later, some would say. The Elf also knew the ice would not break, he was not worried for the procession to cross; they would do so with ease even, lest they all jump up and down at once for a long period of time. However this would inevitably prove a dreadful disadvantage when the confrontation would occur. The Saxons would follow easily if the ice would not give way.

"Get them out of the carriages, make them spread out," Arthur ordered after deciding finally, to his knights. Like all others, Legolas dismounted Arod and crossed on foot. There was no sense in worrying the others, even though it was more than likely unfounded to think the ice would break.

Their progression across the ice was uneventful save for the constant insufferable drumming which grew louder and more fearsome with every beat. Legolas felt pride for Arthur and his knights the moment they were resolved to confront the Saxons. Logically Arthur sent the people journeying with them away; lead by Ganis a young courageous lad the Elf knew could handle the responsibility very well.

Legolas whispered a few words to Arod who nudge his head in response. "I shall see you when I return," he said to the steed as it trotted away with the others. He unpacked his bow and organized his arrows just as Arthur approached him to stop him.

"What are you doing?" the Roman asked, stopping the Elf, yet already knowing the subsequent answer.

"Helping you against the Saxons. I have seen them, how they fight. I would not allow so small a group confront such an imposing force. With help you can defeat them. If any of the stories I heard from Guinevere are true, and from what I know of the knights, I am not overly worried for you."

"I thank you, but I would not ask it of you."

"Nor should you. It is mine to offer. I have a debt I must repay."

Arthur was about to reply but he saw the resolve in the Elf's face and knew there was nothing he could say or do that could sway his decision.

The Roman nodded reluctantly agreeing to Legolas' aid. Ganis received his last orders from Arthur but was reluctant to leave him alone with seven other bows against well over two hundred Saxons. Legolas nearly laughed when he saw Guinevere approach with a bow in her hand and a stern expression on her face. Arthur on the other hand nearly rolled his eyes in exasperation, but he also tolerated the girl's presence with them for he knew she would be additional asset, quite capable of helping them.

Then the last of the serfs and mercenaries passed through the crevice at the other end of the lake. They would be safe as long as the knights would hold the Saxons back long enough to help them get a good head start. With the people gone, the drums seemed to beat even louder as they inched closer.

They were here. The Saxons had come.

Legolas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. He stood at the edge, next to Guinevere who exchanged frivolous comments with Lancelot. Yet the Elf could feel the fear rolling off the knights and himself as the Saxons stopped at the other end of the lake. What a large number they were. Lancelot was right.

Legolas nonetheless would fight hard alongside the knights to protect the people. He stared hard at the army before them, observing all the details, studying each face, from the apparent leader at the head to the drummers at the rear. They were confident they could crush this little battalion of nine, with one quick swipe of their large hand. Legolas would have none of it, if he had any say in it. He was no newcomer to outnumbered battles, having fought many of them with the odds greatly against them. He studied the direction of the wind, it's speed, he could tell the Saxons arrows would not hit them at this distance but the wind was in Arthur's favour, it would carry the arrows across the ice.

The knights all worried over the Elf's fighting skills, but Legolas wondered the reverse, would the Sarmatians be able to defend themselves against such an imposing force? Legolas smiled slightly If they had only a fraction of Tristan's skills, Legolas had no doubt they would prevail against the Saxons.

It mattered not to ponder such things at this point for Arthur had just ordered the knights to draw their bows and fire. Legolas pulled back his bowstring and fired two arrows beautifully, each hitting their mark, but waited for the instruction to fire again. It did not, come. The Elf wasted no time to discover they did not need another command, the order intrinsically commanded to fire at will. And so the Elf launched arrow after arrow, in a swift sequential method, not one wasted on the ground. Many times, his arrows killed two at a time, his elegant bow proving far more powerful than the sarmatian composite bow. Lancelot, who stood not far from Legolas, stopped firing his bow to glance at the Elf to see how he was faring. The knight was dumbfounded to see how fast each arrow flew one after another. He could not even see the Elf notch his arrow before the next one was fired. Jols stood not far from Legolas, knowing he would need more arrows soon enough. The Elf had showed the stableman his bundles of arrows, and he had already consumed two of them, the third one dwindling fast. The Saxons were moving in closer to the knights, but still the ice would not crack, Legolas knew this and doubled his efforts. Arthur also came the same conclusion ordering his knights to fall back and prepare for combat. All obeyed save for one.

Legolas' eyes widened in amazement as Dagonet unfurled his large battle axe rushing forward and battering the ice. The Elf admired the knight for his fearlessness, but also understood the consequences of such brave, yet rash actions. Not one knight, or Elf or maiden, felt confident the knight would escape unscathed. Arrows began to poor in Dagonet's direction, Legolas did his best to discern the arrows' path before they hit, and concentrated on felling the most accurate archers.

The ice began to crack, but the Saxons still moved forward, intent on reaching the knights before it was too late.All eight archers concentrated on felling as many Saxons as possible, giving Dagonet as much coverage required for him to complete his task, but it would not be enough. Legolas was about to fire another series of deadly projectiles when he suddenly stood still for a split moment. His sharp eyes detected one of the arrows aimed at Dagonet heading straight for his heart. Slinging his bow, he said no one in particular, "He will not survive that arrow."

Before anyone could react to Legolas' statement, the Elf dashed forward to Dagonet's position.

* * *

**Whoa Lots of reviews this time! I'm so surprised! Thanks so much for reading this! I really appreciate and it's one of the fuels that keeps me going! Hearing from you helps a lot! Thanks so much!**

**katemary77**, thanks for reading again! What do you want to do to Orli? Hmm, well count me in! Sounds like fun! Just to let you know, though, there isn't going to be any slash. Sorry, it's just not my kink. Far from it actually, very very far from it! But thank you nonetheless! Hope to hear from you again!

**MyDearDelirious**, a Tristan fan, eh? Can you guess, so am I! I hope you liked this chapter! Thanks so much for reading!

**. (a dot!)** Thanks for your review! It does sound strange doesn't it? Combining LOTR and KA? I don't know where I get these ideas!

**dw**, thanks! I had fun conjuring the ideas to slip Merlin into this, but know what? I'm going to add to that. I think I found a cool way to do it too! I hope at least! Thanks for reading and let me know if it turns out good, but that won't be until the next chapter... which I hope will come soon!

**Camreyn**, thanks for your review and your honesty. I really appreciate it. I tried to improve things a bit in this chapter, but I'm not sure if it worked out. It's a bit hard to make things different, I mean I am following the story and I am a little notorious for keeping things as much in cannon as possible, despite the crossover concept. But I will try! I promise! Thanks very much!

**ambereyes2873**, will there be anyone from Legolas' past? Hmmm, can't answer that one right away, but it will be answered by itself in the story! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!

**Norian Mauro**, thank you very much for your honest review! This is what I need to hear! I tried to remedy the lack of depth with this chapter, I hope I didn't mess it up. It's not always easy, you know. Thanks very much for your review and your encouragement. I'm hoping you'll let me know again if I goofed on this chapter! We're all here to learn aren't we? Thanks!

**Celebel**, hi hi! Thanks for your review! Glad you liked how Tristan and Legolas get along. I hope it's still ok in this chapter! Love to hear from you again! Many thanks!

**SkyStrike26**, hi! Thanks for reviewing and I think you read my mind! Hehehe. I like Tristan too! He is my fave knight! He's a wonderful combination of Legolas and Aragorn! Thanks again!

**stubbles**, oh wow! Thanks for your review! Of course I don't want to make you cry! At least, I don't want to make you cry because I don't udpate! If the story is sad, well... ;) What's wrong with Legolas? Hmm, noticed it, eh? Me too. But I can't tell you what it is, that's a secret! He is very odd, but you're right, the prolonged torture did it, but in his life he's spent a lot of time with men and learnt a bit how to act around them, sort of. But don't worry, hopefully with this chapter he should slowly turn into the Legolas we all love, but remember the secret plot! Hehehe! Thank you very very much!

**erak**, you're hooked? Oh cool! Thanks! Arwen? Well that's a thought. Hmm, that could be interesting too! More LOTR characters making appearances? Hmm, I dunno! I can't tell, but you will know very soon! Thanks again for reviewing! Hope to hear from you again!

**Timber**, Hi! Thanks for your review! I hope this next chapter hasn't disappointed you!

**WildKnight**, two reviews? Thanks! I'll respond to both of them right here! Thanks so much! I'm very glad you liked the unfaithful hawk bit, it was fun to write! I've never read a LOTR/KA crossover either! I think there is one here, but I'm not sure. But thank you very very much for having faith in this story!

**LaurelinRe**, Hi! Turn Legolas into a human? Why would I want to do that! Lol. Don't worry! I would **never** do that! There is a reason for Legolas' weirdness. Don't worry! Legolas will always be the lovely immortal eldar we all know and love! Thanks so much for reviewing though!

**dmitchell1974**, hey! Thanks for reviewing! Twice! Hope you like this chapter and Tristan and Legolas fighting together! Thanks for you patience, I hope it was worth it.

**silvervail**! Hey I remember you! Thanks for reading this story too! It's so nice to hear from ya!

**op**, hey cool! You got a new name! So now I don't have to call you a dot anymore! Thanks for rereading and being so patient while I cook up this next chapter. I hope it was worth the wait.

**Meraculas**, thanks for stopping by! I hope you like this last chapter!May 16, 2005

**Neveah101**, thank you for your review! Glad you find it yummy! Or is it, Legolas you find yummy? dreamy sigh Thanks!

**Vintersorg**, you know what? I like your review! True constructive criticism is great, but sometimes a nice cute review is good too! So thanks very much! I'm glad you like it!

**Hellsfirescythe**, cool name! Thanks for the nice words! I find wonderful is a nice word, thank you for relating it to my story! Thank you!

**gosh darn it!** I do want to update I really really do! Yes, shamelessly life can get in the way of fanfiction! Thank you very much for getting me out of my slow writing process! I swear it's thanks to you there's an update tonight! So thank you! Very very much! Hope you like this next chapter too!

**Again thanks very much guys! All the reviews, compliments, criticism are all greatly appreciated! I love'em all!**


	8. Chapter Seven

_**A Strange Fate**_

**Author's note: **Alas! What's this? An update? I know, I know, it's been well over 5 years I haven't updated this story! I certainly hope I still have readers out there. I appologize profusely for taking so long. I have spent the last 5 years stuck between writer's block and real life. Now I think I'm in a spot where I can say: "I'm back!". Thank you so much to everyone who stuck by me all these years, have read and kindly reviewed the story or emailed me to get my butt moving! So many things have changed on since I started writing in 2002, so if there's anything weird going on that you're not used to... it's probably because of that, feel free to let me know about it. This isn't beta'ed (a new phenomenon since I last posted) and the last chapter has all my review responses in the body. Sorry 'bout that. I must say though, I really like the new feature where you can reply to reviews. That's awesome! And so without further ado, I know present to you the muchly waited for and highly anticipated:

_**Chapter Seven: Revealing Fate**_

For a never-ending moment, the knights stopped breathing as they helplessly looked on as Legolas threw himself on the ice to stop the arrow heading straight for Dagonet. As the seconds stretched on, the knights hoped the Elf would reach Dagonet in time. Legolas slid on the ground to reach the knight mere seconds before the projectile hit.

Time had stopped. The knights, the Saxons, Guinevere, all stood motionless to stare, either in bewilderment, at the Elf who stopped an arrow in mid-flight with his bare fingers.

The arrow stood but a mere inch from the knight, a fraction of a second before the arrow reached its target. Arthur released the breath he never knew he held.

Dagonet's eyes were fixed on the Elf's bloodied fingers still clutching the arrow. He was breathing hard, still not believing what had stayed death's hand. He looked up to meet Legolas, who was also amazed of his accomplishment. Yet this stupor did not last long. Legolas took the arrow meant to kill Dagonet and fired it back toward the Saxons, not missing its mark a second time. Upon seeing their felled comrade, the very one who shot the same projectile that killed him, provided the necessary fuel for the Saxons to resume their onslaught, redoubling their assault upon the knight and Elf. Their leader, Cynric, narrowed his eyes towards the fair being that valiantly defended his comrade.

"Kill that creature," Cynric bellowed angrily. The Saxons had been the first to come out of their shock, "Kill it!"

"Go on," Legolas urged Dagonet to continue breaking the ice. "You are covered my friend."

Legolas covered the knight as he broke the ice, protecting him and allowing Dagonet to continue to attack the frozen lake surface but he could not be completely immune. To defend the knight, Legolas launched his own impenetrable onslaught of arrows, each one accurately hitting their mark, often felling Saxons two at a time. He attempted to use Dagonet's shield to cover the knight and himself the best he could but the Elf knew his strength was waning. He still kept his eyes upon the Saxons and fired at every opportunity.

Dagonet could sense the strain and danger Legolas was putting himself through. The big knight had already chosen his fate; he would not allow another to be dragged down with him. In his mind, Legolas was a young lad who he did not deserve to die here.

"Leave," he groaned though his teeth. "Leave now." He tried to push the Elf away from him, but the fair being would not concede.

"No, I cannot let you do this on your own."

There was no time for the knight to provide a response for at last, Legolas' shield failed as Dagonet was struck in his side. He stopped for a moment, blinking his eyes. He breathed laboriously but bravely fought the terrible pain and raised his axe high to let it crash down upon the weakening ice. Legolas turned to see if he was all right, but in his momentary distraction another arrow struck the Elf's shoulder. Legolas winced, aiming would be far more difficult for him now, but he was filled with a blend of relief and wonder when he saw how Dagonet broke the ice. Resolved, the Elf aimed his arrow and fired, but nearly dropped his bow at the pain that ripped through his shoulder.

Another arrow hit Dagonet in his upper chest. This time there was no more raising of his axe; he dipped forward and exhaled before falling in the icy water. But he did not touch the water, for Legolas held him back using his good arm. By this time the ice had cracked all the way across the lake to send the Saxons in a terrorized frenzy. The sound of sparse arrows swishing was mixed with their blood curdling screams as the lake claimed many of their lives. Legolas could not hold Dagonet for long for he too was overcome by a second arrow and at last succumbed to the weariness that has been working to claim him since many days past. Dragged down by the knight's weight, Legolas followed Dagonet and fell into the water with a sickening thud.

The rain of arrows stopped.

Having seen one of his knights down; Arthur, overcome with worry, rushed to reach Dagonet. He was quickly followed by an equally worried Bors. In his haste, Arthur paid little head to the arrow that lightly grazed his neck; his mind was solely focused on his friend's safety. He and Bors reached Dagonet just as he hit the water. Together they were able to pull him out just before Gawain and Lancelot arrived to help.

The ice had cracked completely on the other side causing a rampage of death as Cynric cursed and spat. Yet, the Saxon commander felt a slight twang of pleasure as he saw the Elf succumb to his barrage of arrows. There was one good thing at least, he thought, staring at the dead faces of his soldiers in the water. The creature was responsible for this. It was comforting to see him fall with the knight.

Once the leftover army had retreated and all possible threat was gone, Tristan, Galahad and Guinevere rushed to help their comrades. Once he was assured that Dagonet would be well enough for the time being, Tristan noticed Legolas was nowhere to be seen. Searching the surrounding area, he suddenly recalled seeing him falling in the water with Dagonet. Though all efforts were spent to save the fallen knight, none were spared for Legolas who had still not emerged from the water. Worried, he reached into the opening where Dagonet was pulled from, breaking through the thin layer of ice and hoped he would find a trace of the Elf. Galahad noticed Tristan's desperate search and came closer, more in curiosity as to why the knight had stuck his hand in the icy water. He did not understand: Dagonet was safe now and why would that crazed knight want to help a Saxon anyway. Galahad looked around noticing something was amiss. He eventually came to the same conclusion as Tristan. Legolas was still in the water.

Tristan's hand had passed the frozen burning stage as it was beginning to numb. At last, his search was not in vain as he felt a weak hand brush against his slowly numbing arm and took hold. Tristan turned to Galahad, who understood and helped Tristan pull the half-conscious Elf out of the water. Both knights used most of their strength to pull Legolas out, but it was not necessary. Tristan fell back, surprised at how light the Elf was. He exchanged a worried glance with the young knight. Legolas was so pale, much paler than ever. He looked so young and almost fragile, like the statues in Rome Arthur often spoke of, which belied the force he unleashed against the Saxons just moments passed.

Arthur's attention was drawn away from Dagonet, who was in Bors and Gawain's capable hands, as he became aware of Legolas. He stared long at the Elf and hoped whatever being looked after him, kept his safe. Perhaps he was an angel sent down to help him and the knights in these arduous trials they faced. It was he and he alone that had spared Dagonet's life. Yet, if he were an angel, why would he willingly submit himself to such sufferings as he had back at the Roman estate? Arthur set aside all thoughts as Bors' booming voice brought him back to earth.

"Dag! C'mon Dag! Stay with me!" Bors bellowed. "That's it, stay with me! That's it Dag! You made it!" he shouted with unabashed emotion as the big knight coughed and sputtered. Dagonet slowly opened his eyes, but they were wild, confused, searching for something beyond his sight. He shivered uncontrollably, his face turning a deeper shade of blue.

"He's freezing!" Bors shouted as he removed his cloak to wrap it around the frosted knight. Other knights followed suit.

"Dag," Bors whispered, relieved to see that his closest friend was indeed going to make it. "You've done it! You are one mad knight! Next time you pull something like that I swear I'll kill you if you survive!"

Dagonet managed a small smile before he closed his eyes in exhaustion.

"Easy there Dag, you're alright. We have you," Gawain soothed, but turned fiery eyes to the boisterous knight. "Ease up on him, Bors, he'll be alright."

Bors stared back at Gawain. "I'm just saying, you know..." he drifted off in needless conversation.

Legolas' eyes fluttered briefly as his awareness slowly returned. Tristan remained quietly at his side and observed the Elf as his eyes opened suddenly. Legolas sprang into a sitting position, but winced as he noticed pain shooting up and down his arms and side. His head spun and he saw stars.

"You should not move so swiftly," Tristan said simply, but logically. "You have two arrows in you."

Legolas turned bewildered eyes to the knight. "Don't worry," the Elf heard another voice, a softer younger voice. "You'll be alright. The Saxons are gone; we're all safe for now. We owe it to you," said Galahad. Legolas recognized the eager young knight on his other side.

"Tristan, ride ahead, catch up to Ganis and the villagers. They can't be too far ahead. Tell them to take shelter. I think we've done enough for one day and Dagonet and Legolas need rest. After their defeat, I don't expect the Saxons to come back tonight." Tristan nodded at Arthur's orders and left the Elf's side as he went to Jols not far ahead and left hurriedly.

Arthur crouched in front of Legolas and observed the Elf, taking in his exhaustion and injuries. He did not say a word, since the Elf was bordering sheer exhaustion, but nodded firmly in acknowledgement for his great deeds.

Guinevere's attention was drawn away from Dagonet and projected onto Legolas. She came up behind him and removing her cloak, she placed it around the Elf's icy shoulders. He shivered slightly, but it was obvious he was trying hard to fight it.

"Thank you, Lady Guinevere, but I fear you are in more need than I," Legolas said as he tried to shake the cloak off his needy shoulders.

"Nonsense! You just fell though a frozen lake! Legolas, why this constant disregard for your own well being?" she asked as she gently took the Elf's chin her hands, somehow forgetting he was a being of far greater strength and wisdom than she, at least for the moment.

"It is because I am keenly aware than men need them more than I do," Legolas replied with a twinkle in his eye, firmly pulling away from her grasp.

"Perhaps, but you should realise that if you wish to be of further assistance to us, you need to care for yourself also and keep up your strength," Guinevere shook her head. "Nonetheless, keep the cloak. I still have yours."

Legolas did not reply but arched his brow and watched her walk away. He did the best he could to remove the arrows himself so that at least he would be able to ride without causing too much pain. He winced and grit his teeth and he pulled out the arrow tip from his still sensitive shoulder. Putting a piece of cloth on his fresh wound to stop the bleeding, he observed the arrow. It was not like those he was used to, often dipped in poison or barbed with wire that would tear flesh as it was pulled out. This one was simple in design, the head not too wide, but with ridges on the sides to create additional agony to its victim. He breathed in deeply and tried to work on the arrow embedded in his side. This one hurt badly, as well, but it was not as easy to remove. The arrowhead must be larger than the other one. He at least cut the arrow near the tip where it was embedded and bandaged himself the best he could. At least the arrow would not cause any further injury during the ride. Once they set camp, Legolas would tend to his wounds and those of Dagonet, for he was certain the knight needed as much tending as he.

Tristan returned, breathing hard. He had found Ganis and the others. Galahad came back with his horse to the Elf. "Do you need any help? I can get your horse for you. Arthur wants us to leave now."

"There is no need, Galahad," Legolas paused as he tried to get up. He succeeded, albeit slowly, very slowly and with Galahad's support. "But thank you, for all that you have done."

Galahad nodded and smiled at the Elf. Legolas then whistled softly and spoke in that strange magical language he spoke that mesmerized all the knights. "Tolo Arod! Im baur lín thaed. Tolo sí." _Come Arod! I need your help. Come here._

Galahad stopped and stared as the white and grey spotted horse came trotting toward his master and lowered himself to gently allow Legolas to mount him.

The knights did not have long until they caught up with Ganis. Quickly camp was set up and a fire was going. Dagonet had been treated, he was now wrapped his blankets and cloaks, resting peacefully by the fire.

Legolas was far aside, his tunic removed as he patiently attempted to remove the arrow tip from his side. He was having great difficulty considering his now useless shoulder throbbed mercilessly and he needed to twist himself to get a better look. Legolas looked over his shoulder, his face souring upon seeing it. How he wished it was spring and he could go out and find some healing herbs to help it. He could only simply be content to pass a rag dipped in hot water.

"You look like you could use some help." He heard a gentle feminine voice behind him.

"I thank you Guinevere, but no. I am quite capable of removing the tip myself."

"Of course you are," she said kneeling in front of him. "Let me help you nonetheless."

Legolas sighed but allowed the girl to look over his wound.

"I have done this before many times. Do not worry," she smiled. Taking a cloth from the water basin next to them, Guinevere carefully cleaned the blood around the wound, and then proceeded to probe it.

"I have become familiar with these arrows. They do not come out easily, but I know of a way that will not cause you much pain." Legolas did not take his eyes off her as she worked. In truth he was curious to see how she operated with wounded. Guinevere felt Legolas' eyes on her. Turning her eyes up to meet his, she smiled slightly.

"You always refuse our help. Is it because you have so little trust in us, why? Do you fear we do not know how to treat wounds?"

Legolas sighed again. "No, of course not lady."

"Then what is it? Do you not trust me? Have we not been through enough suffering for me to have earned your trust?" Guinevere queried, almost hurt by the Elf's evident distaste in mankind.

"Lady Guinevere, you know this not to be true. You have my trust."

"Then pray tell me, as a friend. I would know this of you."

"Very well, as a friend." Legolas smiled ruefully. "Over the years, our kind has had several rather unpleasant encounters with the race of Men, this last one included. My kin have grown mistrustful of most humans for they have proven themselves not trustworthy on many occasions. They desire power above all and are willing to sacrifice everything they hold dear to get it. To them, the Elven folk are creatures they do not understand and they fear us. We have learned not to trust them."

"That is sad, to live in fear of those around you. We do not trust anyone but our own, Britons, though they call us "Woads" for the paint we use. We are in a similar situation you and I. Surrounded by those we were brought up not to trust."

"Indeed. Though, to their credit, over the last century I have grown closer to humans than I have in my entire existence. I must admit, that this time has been gradually changing my view of men. I can now call several of them my close friends, something that was all but forgotten in our Realm. The Elves have begun to revaluation our position with the humans and we have begun to trade with several of their settlements again"

"Then you believe there may be hope for us then?"

Legolas nodded as he shifted to allow the girl better access to his shoulder as she worked with surprising skill and gentleness.

"Yes, I have learned that even the worst of enemies can overcome their differences in times of need and work together. The key is to ensure these differences remain at bay after the need has passed. Therein lies the greatest challenge, but I believe when your heart is in the right place, anything can be accomplished."

By this time, the tip was removed. Guinevere was finishing cleaning the wound. She then carefully applied a greenish paste which was cold on his undamaged skin. Legolas hissed as the medicine seeped into his wound.

"To help with the healing," Guinevere said as she applied some to his shoulder. She then carefully bandaged the wounds securing then with warm dry cloth. "There, it is done."

"Thank you, Guinevere, lady of the Woads," he said smiling. "I can continue from here. Thank you for your assistance."

The girl nodded and left the Elf.

He pulled his tunic back on, which was now dry and wrapped himself in his warm cloak. He sat alone and contemplated the stars when he heard the familiar sound of Arthur Castus' steps. He did not glance at the man when he stopped before Legolas and quietly stood next to the Elf. For several long minutes, neither man nor elf said a word, until at last the Roman spoke.

"I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done today. I fear that without you, defeat would have been inevitable."

"Perhaps not inevitable, but really, I did very little," the Elf replied modestly.

"I would not say that. You saved Dragonet's life and greatly decimated the Saxon army. After our departure, Tristan and Bors scouted the Saxons; there were barely a handful of them left."

Legolas smiled uncertainly. "I am not so certain it was for the right people though."

Alarmed by these sudden words, Arthur turned to face the Elf. "What do you mean? How could you say this? Are you saying you would betray us?"

Shaking his head vehemently, the Elf answered: "No, but I wonder, if I fought with the right people. I do not know these Saxons, they have done nothing to me, yet I attacked them as you did. I cannot call them my enemy and for all I know they are just as you are. I apologize if my thoughts alarm you so; I am simply contemplating the choice I made to help you, its outcome and consequences. That is all, do not worry. I gave you my word."

Arthur breathed a small sight of relief, but this news was unsettling. Then again, if the situation was reversed, perhaps, being an enlightened man, he too would question his actions.

Legolas closed his eyes and reopened them softly. "Though, through all this, I fear it is not the last we shall see of these Saxons."

"No, neither do I," Artorius replied.

"What may I do for you, Arthur Castus of Rome," he spoke softly with no ill will.

"I am here because there are many questions I would ask you. There is much we need to know," the Roman said simply.

Legolas lowered his gaze from the heavens before standing. "I though as much. Of course, it is your right. I would also ask some questions of my own."

"Yes, by all means. Please, come and join us, my knights would hear from you." Arthur extended his hand in a non threatening manner to demonstrate his sincerity.

The Elf nodded as he followed Artorius.

The Roman lead him toward the knights gathered around a fire, their faces grim with expectation as they followed the Elf's every move with their intense eyes. Had Legolas been any human, certainly these stern glares would have made his step falter or his resolve waver. The Elf already felt he knew what the knights wanted from him. They wanted information, just like the others, but Legolas knew these people had no hostile intent, which put the Elf at ease. However, he would still remain on his guard as he seated himself cautiously with the knights offensively surrounding him. Though Legolas was certain they did not realize their defensive position, since much as Legolas had lived through in his home, these knights were accustomed to being constantly on the defensive against any seen or unforeseen foe.

From a corner, Guinevere observed the Elf stand in front of the knights. She saw their piercing gazes, the sternness on their faces. These were the faces of interrogators, of men about to mercilessly question another man until he would no longer have any answers left to give.

"Elf, we have questions we want you to answer," Gawain spoke first, eliciting the group's attention and darks stares from Arthur.

"Yes, began Lancelot, Who are you? And what are you doing here?"

"Easy Lancelot, we are not here to accuse him but to understand him and his name is Legolas." The Roman soldier stared hard at his two knights. Lancelot answered Arthur with a huff, but otherwise expressed no further objection. Artorius then turned to the Elf and extended his hand, inviting the Elf to sit with them. "However Lancelot is right to ask these. Where are you from, Legolas? And how did you find yourself in our midst?"

"The former I can answer easily, but the latter, I am not certain myself. I shall answer to the best of my ability." The Elf waited for Arthur to nod before continuing.

"I come from Eryn Lasgalen, a great forest and Elven Realm in the North of Middle-earth."

"Middle-earth?" Bors objected. "What is this Middle-earth? I have not heard of it, have you, Artorius?"

"No, I have not; Rome never spoke of such a place. It is north, you say?"

"Yes, Middle-earth is from what I can understand northwest from our current position."

"North-West?" Guinevere interjected. "North-West, as in beyond the mountains of Ashes?"

"Mountains of Ashes?" Legolas appeared puzzled.

Arthur knew of what spoke the lady and chose to enlighten the Elf. "Yes, the Mountains of Ashes, they are northwest from here. No one ever goes there."

"Those who have, never returned," Galahad whispered.

"It is just before a dark forest haunted with Devil ghosts," Dagonet, who spoke for the first time, added.

"Yes, exactly, Arthur continued, not long ago there was a terrible occurrence. The mountains spat fire. We used to call it the Mountains of Fire. But after strange occurrences where the sky turned dark and the earth trembled, and rivers of fire flowed from the mountains, the mountain became still and silent. Since then it has been nothing but darkness and ash."

The more and more Arthur spoke, the clearer it became to Legolas of what they spoke of.

"This land, we know not what lies beyond the trees and mountains. We can only imagine the worst."

"It is a barren waste land riddled with fire ash and dust. The very air you breath is a poisonous fume," the Elf recited words he had heard long long ago in a council to discussion a situation which lead to a great journey to the same location.

"Mordor," Legolas whispered almost fearfully, "the land of the Dark Lord."

"Mordor? What is this place?" Galahad asked. "I do not like the sound of it. The very name Mordor is terrible on its own."

"It was a hostile land of shadow ruled by the Dark Lord Sauron whose main intent was to destroy Middle-earth. Yes Galahad, to many the Dark Land did indeed bring terror into their hearts. For many long years did Mordor and the Dark Lord seek to rule Middle-earth? Long has he sought to supplant our people and enslave the world of Men. Long had we sought to destroy the Darkness, many have fought and many gave their lives to protect freedom and the peoples of Middle-earth. Until at last, the fortunes of all were turned when the Enemy's single most powerful weapon came into the hands of those who fought for good, and through many terrible trials, those hands availed and were able to forever silence the Darkness. I believe the occurrence you speak of, where the sky turned dark and the earth tremble was the day when all those who served the darkness fled in fear. Sauron, the Dark Lord of Mordor was defeated."

"Yes, I remember," Guinevere said, "Merlin said it was the making of dark and powerful beings, that a terrible battle between shadow and light was waged and the light prevailed" she smiled ruefully, "I can see that he spoke true."

"What was this weapon you speak of?" Gawain queried.

"A great Ring of Power, the One Ring, that would give its bearer unimaginable power." The knights glanced at one another, each one resisting the urge to snicker at such an absurd comment.

"There are many forces in this world. Many of them are ancient and powerful forces that most men do not believe in them. Their minds are too small."

The knights stopped their mocking.

Legolas smirked as he continued: "Most of this ancient world can no longer be seen, most of it forgotten by even the eldest of our people."

"I have heard tales of the West, beyond the Ash Mountains, tales of creatures more magnificent that anything," said Guinevere, "and of powerful magic."

"Magic?" Legolas quirked his brow. "Of whom? Do you speak of the Elves?"

"I would imagine so, I heard tales of creatures tall and fair who walked the earth before all others. They are said to be have mastered the arts of wizardry."

Legolas shook his head. "No, no. There is no magic of the Elves. They are powerful, yes that they are. But magic, that is what men say when they encounter an occurrence they cannot explain in better words."

Guinevere arched her brow, almost insulted, but did not speak further.

"Our worlds appear to be sundered from one another, as it was Eru's design. Alas the tale of the One Ring and of Sauron it's maker and the brave quests of the Ringbearer, I could speak of at a later date."

"Of course. What did you do in Middle-earth, where did you live?"

"My home was the forest of Eryn Lasgalen, 'tis a kingdom under rule by King Thranduil."

"What was your role there?" Gawain asked.

"I was a soldier in the King's Army." Legolas answered evasively. "Eventually I relocated south, to a land called Ithilien, a land which was desecrated by Mordor. Ithilien belongs to the Kingdom of Gondor, and the King requested that the land be restored. Many Elves of all realms offered to tender the broken lands of Ithilien and restore it to its full glory, a goal which has recently been achieved."

"Then, how is it that you found yourself north of the Wall? What happened?" Arthur asked the next question that was on most everyone's mind.

Upon hearing the question, Legolas' eyes darkened as he collected his thoughts. It felt as though he had been gone from Middle-earth for centuries.

"I was with a garrison for a neighbouring kingdom, Gondor it is called. We were on a diplomatic mission to the South. For many centuries Gondor had been warring with the Southern Kingdoms and at long last, the new King desired for peace in order to establish a treaty and possibly reopen the thriving trade route that once existed with the South."

"Diplomats," Lancelot scoffed, "I hate diplomats." Several pairs of angered eyes turned toward the knight. Lancelot simply shrugged.

"No matter, we had been able to establish communications with the Southrons and their King had requested a negotiating table to draw a new peace treaty. A group of diplomats from Gondor and I, with a host of Elvish emissaries were to travel south to represent the King in these negotiations. Sadly we never arrived. Half way into our journey we were ambushed by a renegade group of rebels known as Easterlings, they had rallied their cause to the Dark Lord and were hostile to any attempt at peace and were even more opposed to an alliance. They are still loyal to the Dark Forces, though they no longer hold sway over the land. The Easterlings continue the fight in their name. They had a leader, known at Khamûl, the Black Easterling, though he was defeated by my kin when Mordor fell. I believe they are the ones who attacked us."

"What happened to the host?" Guinevere asked, almost knowing what the answer would be.

"I do not know. Our assailants were well prepared and well versed in elvish weaponry. They took us by surprise and quickly I was knocked off Arod, and darkness took me. I can only fear the worst for our delegation. I do hope they were able to escape, though I fear, they have not. Hours or perhaps days later, I awoke. I was lost. This is a strange land to me. I wandered in the forest, hoping to find my way home or at least a clue as to where my host was or what had happened to them. At last I can upon signs of civilisation and found myself not far from a settlement, which I later discovered was the Roman estate. I did not approach them immediately as I had chosen to observe them and my surroundings as I quickly discovered I was no where near the South of Gondor. I attempted in vain to locate my host. There I came across a young woman in need.

"Guinevere lowered her eyes; she knew exactly what happened next. "I offered my assistance to her as she was being ill-treated those who I later discovered where the Romans. I chose to interfere and help the lady Guinevere who was injured. I helped her make her way home when we were attacked by the Lady's same assailants. I had no quarrel with these men and so I lowered my weapon and did as they asked. I followed them for I did not wish to cause trouble, yet I felt little assurance in their presence. I sensed they were dangerous, but I believed it was only my habitual unease among men. I was wrong.

"Once I entered the Estate, the Romans looked down upon me in scorn and hatred burned their eyes. It was not long before their contempt turned to open hostility and propelled them into action. I saw how they treated Lady Guinevere and the other villagers and chose to react. They did not take kindly to such defence as they were waiting to provoke me. And thus they found their opening and took great advantage of it. Quickly I was surrounded by soldiers. Unfortunately they were many and I, being weary, was quickly overtaken and thus became a captive of the Romans. I do believe you have heard of the remainder of my account." The Elf said staring directly in to the lady's eyes. Guinevere was taken aback by the intense glare.

He knew.

He knew she told them what she had seen.

Arthur cleared his throat. "We have been informed of your stay at the Roman estate."

"Then you have all you need to know," the Elf replied.

"Not quite," retorted the Sarmatian leader. "I would know how you were able to heal so quickly with all the injuries you have suffered. You have spoken to me of the Elves' ability to heal quickly, but I believe there is more to it than you speak."

Legolas shook his head. "Alas no, there is not other explanation. The speed with which my injuries would heal is the reason why the Romans would continue to inflict them. They noticed this far too quickly and chose to use it to their advantage. It is the very nature of the Elves to heal quickly, as we do not know sickness and old age."

Lancelot's jaw dropped. "So, you are saying-"

"His appearance belies his true age," finished Arthur.

"So you are saying you will never grow old?"

Legolas nodded. "No, we do not. Most of the Elven folk have walked under the trees and stars for many many seasons."

"How many?" Tristan asked quickly.

"Far more than you can begin to fathom."

"How many?" Galahad repeated, "One hundred?"

The Elf shook his head from side to side. Galahad's brow rose in surprise.

"More? Two hundred?"

Legolas laughed merrily, "At this right we shall remain all night and day."

"One thousand then?" Lancelot supplied sceptically. The other knights drew their disbelieving gaze to their comrade. Surely, no such being…

"Still more, I am closer to three thousand years of age. Though I am still considered to be a young Elf, there are very few Elves born after me."

"Surely this is not possible?" Galahad breathed.

"I suspected as such," Guinevere said. "Earlier you spoke of your relations with men over the centuries. At first I thought you were mistaken, but now I realise, it is I who made the mistake."

"I am also not so surprised, which in itself is surprising," Arthur began. "I knew you were not as young as you appeared, your eyes contain much more wisdom than I would have thought to see in a man your age. However, still to think, three thousand years. The kingdom of Egypt was at the height of its glory at the time of your birth."

"Egypt?" Legolas asked. "What is this place?"

"Oh, Egypt is a land south, much closer to where my Knights come from. It is in a desert land and was once a strong and powerful empire which ruled the world for many centuries. The land of Egypt is now subservient to Rome."

"Rome, you speak much of this land. I would be interested to hear more of this place."

"Gladly, I would share with you my knowledge."

"Perhaps another time, our new friend may have thousands of years, we do not." Lancelot cut in.

"Of course."

"Since you have been gone, I would assume that a search party is looking for you?" Gawain asked.

"I would assume so. Certainly Gondor would wish to know the location of the garrison and emissaries. I only hope their search is not vain."

"Or they don't give up," Guinevere stated.

Legolas nodded toward the Lady. "Yes, it would sadden me to think so."

Bors, who up until then had remained relatively silent, realized the new line of conversation began to sound vaguely familiar, though he couldn't quite recall why. He decided to forgo staring at the stars and listened intently to the conservation in curiosity.

"Would you be able to identify who might be searching? Their manner of dress?"

"Of course, I would expect a small troop of Gondorian soldiers, or even Elven soldiers perhaps. I can easily describe their armour, it shall not be difficult to identify. I would suspect these soldiers to be lead by a man who calls himself Strider."

"Strider," Lancelot let the name roll on his tongue, "strange name."

Legolas smiled, his gaze drifting slightly. "Yes, well Strider is a ranger and excellent tracker. If anyone can find them, it is him. I have complete faith in his abilities."

"Let us hope he has the same faith in your abilities to remain alive."

"I would believe so."

"What does this Strider look like?"

"Oh, he usually wanders alone, most likely ahead of the search party, he wears a dark cloak covered an old weather worn jerkin made of leather, a long sword at his side and a bow and quiver strapped to his back. He has piercing dark grey eyes, long hair," Legolas motioned with his hand just above his shoulders to show the length, "and a bearded face."

Bors'eyes shot up at the description of this 'Strider'. "Don't need to fear anything lads," he began, drawing the group's attention. "I think I've met this Strider."

At Bors's statement, Legolas stared at him in surprise."You have? You've seen Strider? When? Where?"

"Just a few nights before we left for this merry little adventure, when we were expecting the Bishop. I was keeping watch at this strange man just crept out of the shadows, you know, like he was made of darkness, and sat before me."

Legolas smiled slightly, that sounded vaguely familiar, he knew of Strider's excellent tracking skills and his inimitable ability to remain unseen when he wished. "Yes, I can recognize his pattern, please go on."

"Well, he wanted information, he was looking for someone, and he said, some fellow, named… I can't remember the name, it was dark, and it was late."

"And you've probably had one too many ales." Gawain laughed as he pat Bors on the back.

Bors coughed. "Yeah. He gave a quick description, tall, fair haired, blue eyes. Well he might have been you, Mister Legolas."

"Most likely, he fits the description." Galahad said. "That must be a relief; your friends are out there, looking for you."

'Yes, it certainly is. Has Strider given you any more information? What did you tell him?"

"I don't I hadn't seen anyone like that. He asked the best place to search, I told him to stay away from the North, that it was too dangerous. He thanked me, drank my ale and disappeared back into the fog."

"Yes, there is no question, Strider is here. I must do what I can to find him. He is an excellent tracker, but I feel I should aid him in his search, without of course, giving any hints to your enemies."

"Yes, that would be greatly appreciated."

"Of course, Artorius, however, it appears I have already left them a trail to follow."

"How so?" Lancelot asked.

"My arrows, Strider will be able to recognize them and the manner in which I have felled my opponents."

"Of course, I have seen your arrows, they are unlike those I have seen before," Arthur said. "Thank you, Legolas for the information you have provided us. I only hope that once we return to the wall tomorrow, we shall be in a better position to help you return home."

"Indeed. If you do not require additional information, I shall now retire." The knights nodded content for the moment with the information the Elf had provided them.

Arthur also rose with the Elf and as he made his way toward the shelter, he looked down to see where Legolas had passed. His brow furrowed. There were no footprints on the snow. Curious, how will this Strider be able to track a man with no footprints?

Indeed, their new friend was becoming more and more curious.

**MnM**

Again, thanks for sticking by. I truly hope the next chapter won't take as long... ;) It won't, that's a promise. As always, I love hearing from you, dear reader. Your thoughts and opinions really do meen a lot to me. CHeers!


	9. Chapter Eight

_**A Strange Fate**_

_**Author's note:**__ Well well, what's this? Another update? From 5 years to 5 months, I'd say that's a drastic improvement. I must now thank you, each and every one of you who reviewed the last chapter (and all the others before that one). I was utterly shocked to see that there were still so many of you interested in this story. I'm amazed and see what happens? It took *a lot* less time to post this next part! Now for the sad part… Don't expect another update until at the earliest mid-December…. Why you ask?_

_Well I'm participating in NaNoWriMo (look it up!) and I'm committed to write a 50,000 word novel in one month (November) and no, it can't be one that's already started. That would be cheating… Anyways if you're interested I'll be posting that story once it's done (hint hint, it's the sequel to my other crossover…)_

_Anyways thanks to everyone who reviewed, I cherished __every one of them, and as always I look forward to hearing from you! Cheers!_

_**Chapter Eight: Of Faith, Power and Glory**_

"_See things differently. I don't believe this imagery."  
__-People, thenewno2_

Where did the fog come from?

The previous night gave no indication there would be fog in the morning. Legolas felt mildly surprised when he opened his eyes to reveal a thick wall of fog instead of his usually crystal clear vision. He could not foretell the coming of fog the night before. Legolas fought to break the barrier clouding his sight, but the fog before him was unrelenting. He shivered violently as the blanket draped over him slid off his torso. He was cold. As his hand touched the ground to fetch the blanket, he felt a cold wetness he did not expect.

Legolas stopped.

Since when was the ground covered in snow this time of year in Ithilien? Strange, he thought as he sat up. His movements were slow and deliberate but that did not stop his shoulder and flank to throb mercilessly. He lowered himself back on his bedding, breathing in and out as the waves of pain rolled through him. He touched his flank to feel that he was bandaged and his eyes widened when his fingers came away bloody. What happened? How did he come to wake, wounded on a snow carpeted ground?

He remembered now. Arthur.

Slowly, the fog began to lift from his vision and from his mind. Legolas could now see his surroundings. It was still dark, just moments before dawn, when he realized where he was and what had occurred over the past few days. He was not in Ithilien, even less in Middle-earth. There was a battle over a lake of ice and he was injured as he fought to save the lives of those who released him from his dark torment.

He knew the knights and villagers he accompanied would be roused to continue their long march back to the wall. Arthur had spoken the night before, stating that from their current location they would arrive home just before midday. This had given hope to the knights who tired and longed to return home to at last claim their freedom. Gawain and Galahad had shared copious details with the Elf of their enlistment as Sarmatian knights, their long battles with the Pict Warriors, or Woads as they called them, and the dangling promise of freedom to return to their homeland once their service ended. Of course, all this was contingent on them surviving their fifteen year enlistment. This was their last mission and Legolas could feel their hunger to return to claim the discharge papers the devious Bishop held for them. At this point, Bors and Lancelot had entered the conversation and offered to share their thoughts without reserve and no unkind detail was spared.

Legolas sensed the hatred radiating off the knights like flames spreading through dry grass and from his own experience at the hands of Marius and the Monks, he did not doubt their words. He would most likely feel the same.

Again, Legolas sat up quietly, not wanting to disrupt or alarm those near him as the predawn light slowly began to filter through the trees. At least the weather was much warmer than the previous day. By the time the sun would rise, there would be little snow left on the ground. The Elf was surprised to see such a difference between the North and the South lands, though they were still several hours away from the Wall.

Legolas thought back on the previous evening's conversation with the Knights and the information it revealed. Their minds were still filled with worry and Legolas did not wish to burden them with additional concerns. Still, Legolas allowed himself to dwell on the comforting knowledge that Aragorn was out there looking for him. He was certain of it. Legolas could almost imagine the ranger searching without pause, most likely accompanied by his adoptive brothers, Elladan and Elrohir who, in Aragorn's youth would never leave the young man's side on a perilous journey. These journeys would often enough include a certain Silvan Elf. Legolas smiled at the memories such thoughts evoked.

As daylight trickled through the trees, Tristan emerged from the woods, having completed his watch, and searched for signs of wakefulness. Arthur was the first to rise. The scout came to him and together they surveyed the camp with watchful eyes, noticing as the company slowly began to stir.

Legolas remained in his bedding, not wanting to disrupt the quiet conversation between the two knights.

"Dagonet and the other wounded should travel in the caravan, the younger children and elder women on horses."

Tristan nodded. "At the pace we walked yesterday, we should arrive at the Wall by midday."

"Yes, hopefully we will not be hindered by any delays. I do not believe we can survive another attack from the Saxons."

"Neither would they," Tristan replied smugly.

Arthur gave a brief smile. "No, they would not and I do not intent to find out. Not this day."

"Indeed."

Arthur moved to say something, but stopped himself. His gaze wavered and he looked away. The knight eyed him curiously.

"Speak, Arthur."

Hesitating at first, the Roman swallowed and steeled his resolve. He looked up and returned an unyielding gaze upon his friend.

"Tristan, for fifteen years we have been comrades, riding together in battle. After all these years and hardships, I consider you a great friend and value your thoughts."

Tristan inclined his head, a show of gratitude for the faith and friendship valued between the two men.

"I would ask you, what do you make of the Elf?"

Upon hearing Arthur's words, Legolas tensed and strained his ear. Despite his intrusion, he still felt he needed to hear their true unfettered opinion of him. It was the only way he could learn to truly trust them.

"Legolas?" Tristan's eyes narrowed and flashed something Arthur could not quite grasp. Was that disapproval?

"Yes, Legolas? What do you make of his tales, of him? You are the one that has spent the most time with him. Do you have faith in his words?"

Tristan took a few moments to ponder Arthur's words. Truth be told, he was surprised to hear them coming from the commander, he was expecting such comments to come from Lancelot, who still eyed the elf with distrust.

"What is there to say? He fought hard at our side, despite his sufferings and not being fully certain he could trust us. He nearly gave up his life to save Dagonet, to save all of us from the Saxons."

Tristan paused and observed as Arthur nodded in agreement to each of his statements. If Arthur agreed with him, then what was there to doubt?

"Yet still you doubt him?"

"Do you?" Arthur pierced the knight with a gaze that would have most men, even some of the knights, waver in their uncertainty. Tristan matched Arthur with an unflinching gaze.

"I do."

"Very well, then I see no need to question his loyalty."

"Has he ever given you cause?"

Arthur sighed. He realized he was being overly cautious, but the past few days had left him more shaken than he would ever care to admit.

"No, not once. I cannot say the same for myself," he admitted truthfully. "He has given me plenty of proof I can trust him, but…"

"Something troubles you? You do not doubt him, but you feel he is hiding something."

"Yes, that's it. And with the last few days, I feel myself beginning to doubt many a truth I had once believed to be as solid as stone."

Tristan did not respond. Unlike Arthur, he was not raised as a Roman, tutored by philosophers and great thinkers in Rome such as Pelagius. He did not spend many hours dreaming of Rome's teachings on freedom and equality. He was a soldier, a slave, plucked from his home and forced to serve Rome in the hopes of one day gaining the freedom that was promised to him as a boy when he was torn away from his family. He never believed in the Empire's propaganda as Arthur did, thus he was not shattered by the bitter ugly truths pushed upon the commander with Germanius' double cross and the evident cruelty of the priests prevailing at Marius' estate. He felt suddenly sad for Arthur, he had now become no more than a soldier to be used and discarded by the Empire, just as thousands before him and thousands more to follow.

Tristan blinked from his reverie and looked at Arthur.

"We should wake the villagers if we wish to avoid any more delays."

"Yes, Tristan, of course."

The knights began to stir and together they commenced to rouse the villagers from a short distressing sleep.

~*OoO*~

The air at Hadrian's Wall not nearly as cold the North, but the mood was no less sombre. The pace was much slower than the last few days now that the Saxon threat had been subdued. However, the tension was still present, the threat only being postponed, rather that completely eliminated, a thought that still lingered in the dark corner of everyone's mind.

Despite his injuries and still in pain, Legolas refused to take up space in the caravan, preferring to ride upon Arod. He was however, very thankful for the slower pace, which allowed him some respite and the opportunity to focus on maintaining his strength to heal his wounds. The crowd had spent the majority of the day traveling, rarely stopping to rest, which enabled them to arrive more rapidly at the fortress.

The sun fought to shine through the thick barrier of clouds, but still provided some warmth to the desperate company.

Legolas stared at the long tall wall lining the country side, effectively creating a barrier between the North and the South. Legolas was impressed by the length of the wall, but was surprised how low it was. He had seen an impenetrable fortress before with walls thrice has high. The Elf also recalled how easily those walls had been breached with devices not believed possible. However, when Saruman had decided to attack the Fortress of the Hornburg, there was nothing to stand in his way to the destruction of the Rohirim. Nothing, save for an Elf, a Man and a Dwarf.

There were similarities for certain, except he doubted that those who would attack the fortress hidden behind the wall would success in breaching the wall and slaughtering every inhabitant, though that may be their desire. He also believed the Roman soldiers posted at every watchtower to be better equipped than the raggedy band of worn out soldiers left to defend Helm's Deep.

Legolas felt a twang of sadness for those brave men, old and young who fought and gave their lives to save their existence. He remembered also how he had despaired at the thought they were all doomed to die in that ravine and Aragorn would never be crowned King and Middle-earth would never heal from the hurts inflicted by Sauron and Saruman. He vowed he would no longer underestimate mankind, they had surprised him often enough to learn they were much more resourceful than he gave them credit. The victory at Helm's Deep was a fine example of that.

"At last, freedom!" Legolas heard Gawain sigh as they approached the main entrance to the Wall.

"Yeah, I can almost taste it," Bors replied a smile on his face.

"Let us get our papers and be rid of Rome." Galahad agreed.

As the company entered the Wall, a small escort of Roman soldiers appeared to lead them back to the fortress. As they drew to a stop in the main courtyard of the Fortress, a small bald headed man richly draped in dark blue cloth and adorned with a golden chain at his collar approached. He had a crooked smile and an untrustworthy glint in his eye as he raised his arms in the air in triumph. He was followed closely by a weasely man in poorer cloth skulking behind his shadow.

_This must be the Bishop_, Legolas thought. Upon his brief examination of the man, he understood why the Knights held no love for the man. He reminded him of Marius and many other cruel men he had seen in his long life. This was the type of man who would smile as he slit your throat.

"Ah God! Christ be praised! Against all odds Satan could muster!" The Bishop exclaimed as he saw the caravan enter the courtyard.

"Alecto, let me see you!" He exclaimed proudly as the boy descended the caravan, his mother casting her dark gaze upon the Bishop extending his arms towards her son. Alecto did not respond to the Bishop's enthusiasm.

Legolas descended Arod and pulled back the hood of his cloak. His right hand held his bow while his left remained poised, ready at a moment's notice to snatch an arrow from the quiver strapped to his back. Immediately upon seeing the Elf, Germanius turned toward the fair being with a look of utter derision smeared across his face.

"Who is this? What is this?" he shouted drawing closer to the Elf. "Artorius!"

Legolas' head shot up instantly at the disdainful tone of voice and fixed the bishop with a sharp piercing gaze.

Startled, Arthur turned to the bishop and explained. "This is Legolas. He is a friend who helped save the lives of my men."

"Arthur, your time among these pagans has dulled your mind and allowed you to weaken you resolved against Heretics who would challenge God's Church. And now, you have brought forth a demon into the Holy Roman Empire!"

Arthur's gaze turned cold. Instinctively, upon hearing his words, Arthur's knights drew closer to their commander's side.

"Guards! Arrest him and take him to the tower. Lock him in the darkest cell. Never again should such a creature be allowed to see the light of day," he shouted defiantly eyeing the Elf.

As the guards drew their swords and advanced on the Elf, what began as an unconscious attempt became an ardent desire to protect their leader and the strange being that came to their aid without asking, the knights quickly drew out their own weapons upon the guards. Arthur stood directly before the Bishop, his own sword drawn and pointed at his throat.

"He will not be taken."

Legolas, Arthur and the Bishop all turned at the sound of the newest voice.

Lancelot stood before Legolas, his sword raised.

"You shall stay away from him, Germanius," Lancelot spoke the Bishop's name with such bite the clergyman flinched.

"If you, or your men," he waved the tip of his sword around, pointing it at the Roman soldiers, "dare come close to him, we will be forced to act upon it."

"To defend our new friend," Bors added, standing next to Lancelot.

Germanius' eyes widened in surprise as did Arthur's, who looked pointedly at his second in command.

Lancelot raised his brow and smirked. "Yes, Arthur, even I can differ between the lesser of two evils. As much as I distrust the Elf, my hatred of Rome, that Bishop and his dogma is far greater so that is sickens me."

"So it does."

"Artorius, how can you believe such a thing? Do you not see? It is an abomination. It should never have allowed to exist on this earth."

"His name is Legolas and he is no demon." Lancelot spoke again, surprising Arthur with the depth of camaraderie he was certain the knight did not have. Even after fifteen years, he still had much to learn of his knights.

"No, look at him! See?" the bishop drawing attention to the Elf's pointed ears. "He is a servant of the Heathen gods of this land. What do these pagans call him?"

"Puck and Pan also," Horton, the Bishop's aid, supplied.

"Puck," the Bishop spat. "He carries the image of the Devil himself. He must not be permitted to live."

Galahad eyed the Bishop with all the hatred, the kind young knight reserved for the Romans. "Over our dead bodies. If you want him, you must pass through us first."

"Galahad, please." Arthur raised his arm in a peaceful gesture toward the young knight, but turned his hard gaze upon the Bishop.

"Legolas is my guest, he is to be treated with respect and he is not be harmed. If you, Bishop Germanius, cannot abide to this, then I suggest you kindly leave this place." Arthur spoke steadily, his voice laced with venom.

"Immediately," Lancelot echoed.

For his part, Legolas was no passive bystander. As soon as the Bishop began his threats against him, Legolas had removed an arrow from his quiver and notched it to his bow, which remained aimed between the Bishop's eyes.

"You do not see how even now, the vile one threatens us."

"Only to defend himself against you!" Galahad riled.

"Bishop Germanius, friend of my father," There was no warmth, no friendliness in Arthur's voice, "I will not ask again."

The Bishop laughed nervously. "Of course, of course, Arthur. Despite your willingness to associate yourself with Pagans and Demons," his eyes narrowed on the knights and the Elf, "you are still an honoured citizen of Rome and this is your command. Until the Pope decides otherwise, which I suspect he shall, you are free to do as you please. Of course, if you choose to continue on this dark path, away from the Righteous cause of Rome, Artorius, do not expect forgiveness from his Holiness."

"Indeed."

Arthur and the knights filed out toward the Fortress entrance. Both Bors and Tristan paused before the Bishop to spit at his feet. Lancelot snorted in amusement.

Alecto, whose keen eyes had not left the interaction for one moment, came forward to Legolas.

"Please Legolas, let me help you," he said wrapping his arm around the Elf's waist.

"Thank you, Alecto, but I do not require your assistance."

"But Legolas, I insist. You are still hurt." Legolas stopped to stare at the earnestness in the boy's eyes. He realized he felt horrible for the way he was yet again treated by representatives of Rome.

"Please Legolas, I hope you realize, not all Romans are as Germanius and my father."

Legolas nodded and allowed himself to lean into the boy's hold, despite his reassurances it was not needed. On the contrary, Legolas realized, it was needed for Alecto's sake.

Once they were clear of the Bishop, Arthur approached the elf and grasped his shoulder.

"Please Legolas, accept my apologies. The Bishop is very narrow-minded."

"Clearly," Legolas replied angrily. He was in no mood to mince his words. "Your people, with very few exceptions," his eyes rested momentarily on Alecto, "still have much to learn."

"I know. Please do not allow the folly of the few to taint your view against the many who wish you no harm."

The Elf sighed tiredly. "I have no such intention, but, be warned. I do not take kindly to such thinly veiled threats. I have met many men, just like the Bishop and Marius," he turned sorrowful eyes to the boy, "who were no exception. These men thirst for power and untold glory. They would stop at nothing, without caring who or what they destroy to obtain their goals."

"I know, please be assured you are welcome here and are among friends. The Roman soldiers here work under my command and would not harm you. This, I swear."

Shaking away Alecto's assistance, Legolas stood before Arthur and stared into the Roman's eyes. He peered deeply and saw such sincerity; he could not deny the Knight's integrity.

"I believe you," he replied softly.

Legolas noted the barely perceptible release of tension leaving Arthur's stance. "Then allow me to bring you to your quarters. You are welcome to stay as long as you will."

Legolas nodded, "Thank you." He allowed Alecto to resume his position and the boy helped the Elf enter the Fortress and together they were lead by Arthur to their quarters.

"He doesn't look very well," Lancelot observed as he watched the Elf and Romans pass through the entrance.

"No, he does not," Guinevere replied. "In fact, I say he appears worse than last night."

"You worry for him?" Lancelot asked, astonished.

"Yes, I do. For a moment one would have thought you did too." Guinevere pulled her cloak tighter across her shoulders and walked away leaving the knight to ponder the girl's words.

~*OoO*~

The room Legolas was assigned for the duration of this stay as a guest of Arthur's was spacious, much more spacious than the Elf was ever used to when visiting elven realms. The Elves had no great need for large private spaces, since most of their homes are surrounded by trees that by nature often provide them all the shelter and privacy they required. In addition, the trees would not be able to hold great housing. Of course, the exception was Legolas' private chambers in his home in Mirkwood, where Legolas, as Crown Prince, held many duties and required additional space to hold councils and to ensure the safety of his people and himself.

The humans, Legolas noted, were quite the opposite. They desired and often required spacious accommodations. Over the years, Legolas had spent many a sojourn as a guest among men. He had often suspected the men desired such large chambers due to their homes being stone citadels or fortresses and these men felt trapped among such cold and lifeless walls. Legolas certainly did, the elf had no great love of stone and often felt stifled when staying at the Citadel of Minas Tirith in Gondor, despite being given the best room, closest to the King and overlooking the Queen's garden. He would never understand how Arwen withstood her time at Minas Tirith. Her love for Aragorn must truly be great to endure such coldness. Legolas shook these thoughts from his head, he knew with all of his heart Arwen loved Aragorn more than anything and Aragorn felt the same for his beloved Queen. There never was any doubt.

However the Elf could never fathom living in such a way for very long, no matter his love for Aragorn. A shudder ran through Legolas as thoughts sprang to mind of his involuntary stay at Marius' Estate, locked in the dark bowels of the villa, deprived of life and light. That alone brought the elf so close to shattering his spirit. So close, it terrified him more than anything. He was able to withstand the torture they put him through, but it was the deprecation of what he held most dear that nearly undid him. Marius and his soldiers would never know how close they truly came to achieving their goals. Had they looked beyond the surface they would have easily found the Elf's weakness. A weakness the Elf feared he wore so transparently he could have given himself away at any time. His throat tightened and furious tears pricked behind closed eyelids at the thought of the dark dungeon. Every day since his released he thanked the Valar they never knew.

He let out a sigh of relief when he opened his eyes and realized his room had a decently sized window that overlooked the southern part of Britain. Since this was a military fortress, strategically placed below the Wall to separate the two warring peoples, the Britons and Rome, there was no balcony. Legolas mourned its absence, but understood all too clearly the implications held by the presence of such a luxury. And so, he relished the feel of the cool breeze that tickled his face as he peered out his window, which clearly was a better option than nothing at all.

A knock at his door startled the Elf out of his reverie.

"My Lord?" a young shy voice queried, "May I enter?"

Legolas turned toward the door and saw a young boy peering shyly into the Elf's quarters.

"Yes, of course. Please, enter." He said invitingly.

"Thank you," the boy entered carrying a tray filled with bread, fruit and cheese. A decanter and goblet was also on the tray along with what appeared to be ointments and bandages for the Elf's injuries.

"Lord Arthur requested these be brought to you."

"Thank you," Legolas gestured to the small table by the window and the boy carefully set the tray down. He turned questioning eyes to the Elf.

"Lord Arthur said you were injured, I can help you if you so desire."

Legolas smiled kindly. "No, thank you. I can take care of it. Please send my gratitude to Arthur."

The boy returned the Elf's friendly smile and left with much less timidity than his arrival.

Once the boy was gone, Legolas busied himself to change his dressings and probe his wounds. He was satisfied to note they appeared much better than the previous evening; Guinevere's ointment appeared to be very effective. There was no sign of the infection that began festering. Content, the Elf eyed the laden tray and realized he had not eaten since the previous day. Returning his gaze out his window, he began to eat and drink.

~*OoO*~

At last, Arthur could now have a moment of peace. He leaned back against the wall of his chambers and breathed a sigh of relief. All the wounded were being tended to and the refugees were all given quarters, including Alecto, Guinevere and Legolas. He had just returned from seeing to Dagonet in the infirmary. He was thrilled to learn that after all he had been through; the big knight would live to taste his freedom and fight another day if he so choose. It was strange to have returned after such an eventful journey. Much had happened, much more than what the initial mission briefing indicated. True, he and the knights had accomplished their goal of travelling north to return with Alecto, the Pope's favourite pupil and the casualties were minimal, with all of Arthur's knights returning alive. However, this mission had left Arthur shaken. He wasn't sure what to believe anymore. Alecto's words and Marius's actions had both shocked and horrified him. To think that the Rome he was lead to believe existed, was gone.

His fingers rubbed against a shard of the clay medallion he was given by Pelagius, his former mentor. His eyes burned angrily when he saw the gift shattered on the floor. He knew who was responsible.

Arthur thanked God for his and the knights' safe return. When he first received his mission from Germanius, he was certain he was being handed a death sentence. He never expected to survive, much less return with all his knights. He knew he had Legolas to thank for that. He was still amazed how the Elf was able to save Dagonet's life, nearly at the expense of his own. Thinking about the lives that were nearly lost and the devastating sights of Marius' dungeon, Arthur felt the walls of his chamber close about him, the air suddenly thick and stale.

He couldn't breathe.

Suddenly needing air, Arthur quickly left his chambers and headed out of the fortress. The cold air hit his lungs, reviving him. Wild eyed, Arthur looked around him, like prey searching for an escape from his hunter. Nearly stumbling, he made his way to a hilly area away from the fortress. The mounds were green and some sparsely covered in wild flowers still alive from the summer season. Each one was ornamented with a sword at its head while some had other adornments such as helmets or shields. Arthur walked slowly among the tombs, almost reverently.

"I almost buried another today," he spoke to the green burial mounds each one adorned with a unique sword, testimony of the bravery of Arthur's fallen knights.

"I did," he continued as he walked among the tombs of his fellow knights and past soldiers before his time. "Dagonet, he very nearly succumbed in an attack by the Saxons. I know, you are probably thinking why we would even dare venture north of the Wall. We did, and for that Dagonet almost paid for it with his life. Germanius charged us with a mission I am certain he knew we would fail but we didn't." He smiled, thinking of how proud his knights would be. "You see, there we found this terrible dungeon and from it sprang a formidable ally we came to rely upon without ever realizing it. I wish you were all able to meet him. His name is Legolas and never before have I seen such a skilled archer. Even though he was weak from the torture he endured and injured he was still defending us from an enemy he knew little about. I hope we can continue to trust him. I have grown fond of him and would hope to find him a permanent ally. I'm sure you all know how difficult they can be to find."

He stopped before a burial mound devoid of the typical adornment. He knelt before the head of the tomb.

"Hello father," he spoke softly his head bowed. "I am certain you would have approved of my alliance with the Elf. Even though Rome would not necessarily agree, you would have. I have also come to ask for your forgiveness. I always believed it was the Woads who were responsible for mother's death. I know they are responsible for yours and for that I shall never forgive them." Arthur laughed shakily. "Now I find myself becoming their ally as well, to fight against a common enemy. I always believed in Rome, always believed in its ideals, now I am not so certain. Firstly Germanius, a man who undeservedly called himself your friend, has informed us of his Holiness's decision to withdraw from Britain and leave us to our fate. It's as though we have been fighting these last years for nothing. Pelagius is dead father, killed by Germanius and his kind. I don't know what to make of this terrible news. My faith is growing weak. I no longer believe that Rome is a bastion of justice as it once was.

"I am sorry father; the Rome we loved no longer exists, except perhaps in our dreams. Maybe this war with the Woads is not what we were taught to believe. I realize now this is how you saw it. You did love my mother, you were wed. You must have seen something in her people, something worthy. I find myself beginning to see the value of an alliance with Merlin. After all these years, all the bloodshed against both our peoples, I find myself inclined to stand by my enemy. I hope my dear knights can find it in their hearts to forgive me this trespass and you father. I swear to you I shall not let all those who perished, die in vain. Their deaths, and yours, were not meaningless. You, father, have lead me on this path, this moment. If Rome is now the enemy than the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Thus, I will join the Woads as Merlin wishes and honour yours and mother's memory.

"I ask also to allow me to bring forth Legolas into our midst. He has valour and is honourable. He is certainly no herald of woe. He can be trusted I am sure of it. Father, I shall not let you down. This I promise you."

Arthur passed his hand over his father's burial mound and bowed his head one last time before getting up and set out to find the object of his prayers. Maybe there was a possibility to forge an alliance with the Elf, if he could help him find his people.

~*OoO*~

After eating and drinking his fill, Legolas was curious about the fortress. He could tell it had been built nearly two centuries ago, his keen eyes able to decider the age of the structure based on the wear of the stony passageways and stairwells. The fortress was several levels high; his room was on one of the higher floors. He observed the parameter, taking note on the defences, the long narrow windows to protect the defending archers and the un-scalability of the wall. He noted the fortress was not designed with beauty in mind, but rather functionality. There were few markings and adornments on the walls and doors, save for sconces lining the walls and a curious golden emblem on the top of each door. It was a stake with a bar across the middle. Some larger ones even had the design of a man in obvious agony attached to it. Legolas shuddered, what a horrible way to die. He did not understand why these idols decorated the fortress. What did it symbolize?

His venture lead him through the long corridors and dark rooms of the fortress, until at last he came to a large hall with thick dark oak double doors. Again he found the strange idol. Pushing the doors open, Legolas entered into what was most likely an antechamber before an angular archway hidden by a heavy deep red curtain. The Elven warrior pulled back the curtain to reveal an imposing square hall, with a high ceiling and walls adorned with columns and rich tapestries. This room, unlike the others, reflected the importance of the fortress to the people who served Rome. Legolas assumed it was a sort of council chamber as evidenced by the strange and imposing round table at the centre.

The Elf eyed it curiously, circling the table and running his hands on the back of the chairs. What he found strangest was that the centre of the table was void; the table was literally a large circle, with a huge lantern placed in the centre. Legolas thought back to his initial assessment of the room. Upon entering the hall he had assumed it was a council chamber. He believed his assessment was still correct; however he believed the council would include Arthur and his knights. This table, so large it was could easily contain many members, many more than the current number of knights under Arthur's command.

He thought carefully, there was Lancelot, obviously Arthur's second in command, Tristan, a trusted scout, Bors, Dagonet Gawain and Galahad, each one a trusted comrade. That was only six knights plus Arthur himself was seven. The table could easily hold five or six times that number. Who else was a member of Arthur's council? Where there other knights he did not meet? Then again, from what he gathered from speaking with the knights this last mission was a very dangerous one they did not expect to survive. Then why would only a small number of knights proceed on such a risky endeavour? Would not all resources be used to ensure its success? Were the others occupied in another battle?

In his mind's eye, Legolas sought another time in another world, where he was present at a council with few members. He remember the last days of the War of the Ring, when he, Aragorn and others were gathered before the white throne in the Great hall of the Citadel of Minas Tirith. Those were the days before Aragorn was crowned King and he and the allies of the West gathered to form one final assault upon the enemy in order to provide the necessary distraction to at last defeat the enemy.

The Elf was lost in his thoughts when Arthur, fresh from his visit of the burial mounds, entered the meeting hall. The knight noticed the Elf staring intently at the table.

"We are all equals; there are no heads or rulers among us. For men to be men, they must first all be equal."

A round table. Legolas smiled. He should make this suggestion to Aragorn, for he also does not see himself as the head, at least not during council meetings. Though seasoned through many years of battle and hardships, Elessar always believed he was as strong as his ministers and councillors. Though he was King, his rule was not his alone. It was a leadership based on trust and good counsel.

"I share your sentiment, as do many Elven realms. A leader is only as strong as those he serves." Legolas circled the table once again, eying it curiously. Arthur understood the question the Elf would not ask: why so many chairs and so few knights?

"Kai, Bedivere," Arthur paused to smile affectionately as he ran his hand over the back of one of the chairs at the table, "Percival. These were all great men. Great men, great soldiers who sat at this table, who stood by our side, who..."

Arthur drew in a shuddery breath and closed his eyes.

"Died."

"Today, I feared that we would once again lose another. I spent the last fifteen years of my life watching as good men, who fought with all their will to survive long enough to return home, to reclaim the life that was taken from them, perished. They were so young, so full of life and passion. Every time I saw one fall, it tore me apart. Do you understand this, Legolas?"

Legolas listened intently as Arthur continued. Being immortal he truly did understand, far more than Arthur could ever begin to comprehend, how precious life was. Many young men and Elves did he see fall. Elves treasure all life, regardless whether it was human, elven, animal or even plant life. All life he held dear and all losses were deeply mourned. He closed his eyes and his sight was haunted with the thousands of lifeless corpses covering the ground, whether it be on the forest floor of his home, the Hornburg or the devastating battle on the Pelennor Fields. Some were dearer than others. Some he would have called brother, were they not taken too soon. Each life lost flashed before his eyes and he gasped. Arthur did not notice the change in the elf as he too was lost in memory of battles past. Through these darks times, Legolas did also see many good things. In his long years he did see great knights fall, but also he saw great kings rise. He was certain he will see another great king rise again.

"I understand all too well, Artorius," Legolas spoke at last. "There is no proper age, be it old or young to be thrust in the midst of war and bloodshed. Each loss is devastating. It is much too easy to allow ourselves to be succumbed by such grief. Believe me, I have seen it before."

The Elf swallowed. "But the key, Arthur, is to keep fighting for the sake of life, for their memory, for what is just and true. Keep holding on, to yourself, your faith and your beliefs, to the memory of those dear lost souls, for one day, and for you I believe this day will come soon, you find your true purpose. You will find meaning in your actions."

"Have you?"

Legolas smiled ruefully. "It took many, many years, but yes. I have found meaning." His smile became genuine.

"Over the years of my life, I have fought many wars, lead many armies into battle. At last, I found that all of our struggles, all of the blood we shed lead to one goal, to one great battle that lead to a much deserved era of peace. It was a long and painful journey, where countless lives were lost, but at the end of all things, there were scores of good things still in this world that were worth preserving. Through these darks times, I saw great soldiers and powerful realms fall, but I was also witness to see great kings rise and fallen realms take shape once again. I am confident to see such occurrences once more."

Arthur smiled in turn. "I hope to one day have such conviction, Legolas."

"In time," Legolas spoke wisely, "you shall." He nodded and exited the room, leaving Arthur along with his thoughts.

"In time," he echoed the Elf's words. "Let it be sooner than late."

~*OoO*~

There was a strange murmur on the wind. Legolas could hear it whispering to him ever since their return to the Wall. He could not place the sound, or its origin, but he knew that it was of interest to him. Though strange, the trees were speaking to him, yet he could not perceive their warnings quite as clearly as he would have on Middle-earth.

Legolas feigned to smile as Bors passed him by, a large smirk on his face, a mug of ale in hand.

"What am I to do?" he though as yet another knight, the young Galahad wandered by, searching for his friend Gawain. "No one would believe in talking trees."

Galahad must have noticed the Elf at last, for he turned around and amicably slapped him on the shoulder.

"Come Legolas, don't be a stranger! Come and have a pint… or… several with us! You're beginning to sulk like Tristan, and that's no good," the young knight slurred his words and he barely kept his balance.

Legolas resisted the urge to wince as he caught a strong scent of ale. Better to agree with him in this case. The Elf knew from much experience with Aragorn, never to cross a man whom had nearly exceeded his capacity for ale.

"Very well, but no drinking games as I hardly see the point of them." He said as he sat with them and caught the mug that was slid his way.

"Why's that? Are we too afraid to lose?" Gawain said as he wiped his mouth.

"No, not at all," the Elf said as his brow rose.

"Well then, brother, you have naught to lose."

"This will be a most interesting night," Legolas though as Galahad laced his arm with the Elf's and lead him in the direction of the tavern.


	10. Chapter Nine

_**A Strange Fate**_

**Author's note: **Ack! So sorry for the tardy update. I can't even remember when I promised it… Was it last fall? Ouch… sorry! :( I am constantly striving to get better at this. As you can obviously tell, it's hit and miss. Please note that I have read every single review and I appreciate them all. I'm sorry if I haven't responded to yours just yet… I will! So… here's the next chapter, please feel free to let me know what you think. Your thoughts and ideas matter so have your say! Thanks again!

_**Chapter 9: And so we run**_

Galahad pulled Legolas through the entrance of the tavern. Quickly shielding his eyes from the candlelight of numerous chandeliers, he forced himself to breath through his mouth as the horrid smell of ale and other scents the Elf would rather not identify assaulted his nose. He nearly turned back and headed out, but Galahad's hold dragged him in the direction of where Lancelot and Bors were seated, a string of empty mugs lining the table. Tristan stood nearby, in a secluded alcove, throwing his knife at a target, while the other two knights passed comment on his skill.

"Come," Galahad said as he tugged on the elf's arm. Legolas rolled his eyes and followed the young knight. It was barely twilight and it appeared that the knights and other patrons had been celebrating for quite some time already.

"Ah Legolas!" Bors said as he raised his mug while a barmaid deposited another round of ale on the table. "Thanks Vanora," he said pulling the woman into his lap and kissing her passionately. Vanora slapped Bors on the arm and pulled back.

"Stop, you idiot, I've got to get back to work."

Legolas arched his brow curiously; this was a rather strange crowd. Vanora readjusted her bodice and turned her gaze to the newcomer at the table.

"Who's this?" she asked, "I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"Ah yes," Bors said, his words slurring together. "This is Legolas; we met him in the North. He's a good fighter, good lad. Saved Dagonet's life yesterday."

"Aye!" Gawain agreed, "To Legolas!" he said raising his mug to toast the Elf. The other knights followed suit and drank deeply.

Feeling slightly out of place, Legolas turned to Vanora. "My Lady," he said as he inclined his head.

"My Lady?" Vanora exclaimed. "Such manners you have lad. Why Bors, you never speak to me like that?"

"Why would I? You're my lover, not some courtly handmaiden or priestess. It's not like I have a need to woo you any more."

Vanora slapped him again, this time hard.

Legolas grimaced slightly.

"Don't worry, love. He's always like this," the lady said as she wiped her hands on her apron.

"He is?" the Elf asked incredulously.

"Sadly yes," she said eying the elf up and down, her gaze settling on his face. She smiled. "Then again, if another more chivalrous man came along and swept me off my feet I'd be off in a minute."

"Truly?" Legolas' eyes widened. _This was love?_

"I could help you with that Vanora!" Lancelot supplied as he swept the woman into his embrace. Vanora responded by slapping the knight in the face.

Legolas chuckled as did the other knights. Bors, however, stood up and pulled out his two short knives and held them before Lancelot whose hold loosened enough for Vanora to escape his grasp.

She passed Legolas a mug of ale and pressed her hand on his shoulder. "Don't let them corrupt you into following them. There are times they say things that may appear brilliant, but believe, dear, they never last."

"I shall keep that in mind, my lady," Legolas said as he accepted the mug.

"Don't you go and ruin that sweet boy," she spoke sternly to the knights by the table, while eliciting silent mirth from the Elf and boisterous laughter from the knights.

Bors pulled the woman on his lap. "Oh my Vanora, don't you worry! Even if I could have any woman, I wouldn't want any other besides you," he said as he kissed her.

"Really?" she replied, smiling.

"Oh yeah, there's no one I'd rather have my little bastards with."

Vanora sighed with irritation. "I've got to work."

"Alright, my little fire, but don't forget the children!" Bors said as he kissed her again.

"How could I?" Vanora replied as she left.

"Children?" Legolas inquired as Bors said opposite the elf.

"Yeah, me and Vanora we've got a little bunch of bastards."

"Bas-tards?" Legolas replied carefully, articulating each syllable as though he had never heard the word before.

Lancelot laughed as he nudged the Elf. "Yes, that is what Bors refers to when he speaks of his children."

"Ah, I see," Legolas said, but did not truly see. "And how many children do you have?"

"Oh, I don't know, at least a dozen, I think."

"Eleven," Gawain corrected.

"Impressive that you can keep count Bors!" Lancelot cheered.

"Eleven? But you are so young, how is it that you have so many children?"

Bors replied with a grin and large swig of ale.

"Do your people not have children, Legolas?" Gawain said as he sat down and joined in.

"Well yes, but not that many in such a short time and certainly not twelve, I have never heard of such a number."

"Really? Don 't you have any of your own?" Bors asked. "Any little elvish bastards running around looking for you? I would expect someone your age, to have at least a few dozen!"

The other knights around the table chuckled in response.

Legolas cast his gaze downwards. "No, I fear it is not so. I have none. The Elves are not accustomed to having many children. The most I have ever heard of is seven children. And there are often several centuries that pass between each."

"Hmm, I see. So what, there's no lady elf out there that's got your eye?"

Ignoring Galahad's question, Legolas shifted his gaze toward Tristan and took a long draught from his mug of ale He nearly coughed it back up as he tasted. He never did understand men and their love of such a bitter drink. How he longed for elven berry wine.

"There have not been any elvish children in a many long count of years," Legolas said in an effort to distract the conversation. "I am one of the last ones."

"No children in what? Two, three thousand years?" Galahad exclaimed.

"Yes, something of the sort," Legolas replied taking another long sip. He would rather force down the nasty drink than contribute anymore to this conversation. Thus, he devised a change in their topic.

"What will you do now that you all have your freedom?"

"Well, my dear Legolas it is funny that you ask such a question," Bors started. "Let me tell you exactly what I have planned now that we have our freedom. Have you ever imagined yourself Governor of your very own village?"

Legolas eyed the warrior and vainly attempted to hide his amusement. "No, no I have not," he replied flatly.

Bors scoffed. "Well then, maybe you should, there's this air about you," he began gesticulating toward the Elf. "Yeah, you have this look, like you have some Lordly authority or… something."

"Have I?" Legolas asked innocently.

"Indeed," Lancelot agreed. "What exactly do you do back in your home?"

Legolas resisted the urge to gulp. It appeared the more ale the knights drank the more their inhibitions melted away, thus allowing them to ask questions they would have dared not ask at an earlier time. Legolas eyed the knight and carefully crafted his response. He would need to ensure he remained on guard until the knights grew tired of their persistent questioning. "I have lead armies before, if that is what you are asking. For many years I was a captain the King's Army and leader of a company of archers tasked with protecting the borders of our home."

"Hmm," Lancelot replied suspiciously, "seems there is more than what you say. There is a Lordly air about you."

Legolas wisely chose this moment to empty his mug, choking back the bitter liquid he barely enjoyed. Suppressing the urge to retch it back, Legolas set his mug on the table and wiped his chin, just as he had seen Aragorn do many times before. "This ale is very good," he lied through clenched teeth.

The knights cheered loudly and slapped him on the shoulder, encouraging him to continue.

"More?" Lancelot replied.

"Indeed," the elf inclined his head. Lancelot smiled.

"So, Legolas," Gawain started as Legolas worked on his second mug of ale. "Is there not a special beloved Elven lady pining for her brave soldier to return back in Elvenland?"

"Middle-earth," the elf corrected.

"Middle-earth, ah yes," Gawain echoed. "What are the women of your people like? Do they age just as you do? Are they," his eyes twinkled merrily. "Beautiful?"

Legolas allowed himself a tiny smile. "Elven maidens are just as I am, they neither age or nor die unless by unnatural means. They are all kind hearted and yes they are all very beautiful."

He smiled thinking of Aragorn's Queen, Arwen. He had known the lady for the entirety of his life. He loved the Lady Arwen dearly, as one would love a cherished sister.

"Well then," Lancelot began as he raised his mug, "I believe then Legolas, should you find your way home, I just may accompany you and find one of these beautiful mystical Elven maidens for myself. To Elven women!"

"To Elven women! And to Legolas for saving Dagonet!" Legolas smiled as the other knights echoed Lancelot's thoughts and together they drained their mugs and began asking for more. Vanora refilled them and gave the Elf an exasperated look. She motioned the pitcher she held towards him and he nodded his head in refusal. Smiling, she returned his nod, refilled his mug nonetheless and left. Though his tolerance for the bitter beverage was much greater than the knights, he did not care for it. As the knights continued drinking they continued to pester the Elf with question after question, while constantly urging him to refill his mug. He knew with experience that it would take several dozen pints of the ale they were pouring for him to begin feeling its effects.

Yet, despite their efforts, Legolas eluded them. The less they knew about him the better, there were certain elements of himself that he wished to keep from them. Not that he had anything to hide; it was just better judgment to keep from them the knowledge of his lineage. Nothing good ever came out of his revelation of his title and lineage. This was a bitter lesson learned at an early age.

His eye wandered from the various tables filled with loud, mirthful patrons to the back of the tavern, not far from where he and the knights sat. There stood Tristan, alone, his gaze fixed on a single point. Legolas observed him for several moments as he sipped on his fifth ale. He watched as the knight carefully aimed his dart, gauging the distance and the strength required to hit his target. A true marksman Legolas noted. After a few moments Tristan pulled his arm back and released the dart which hit the centre of the target pinned to the wall, eliciting a satisfied smile from the knight.

Resolved, Legolas drained his mug and set it on the table. Standing, he nodded to the laughing knights. He walked over toward Tristan, who acknowledged the Elf's presence, and observed as the knight quickly, but carefully aimed the dart again and threw it at the target. Once again, it landed in the centre.

"Very impressive. You have a talent for marksmanship."

"I am for the middle," the knight replied with casual indifference as he prepared to aim another dart.

"You have the eye of a hawk," Legolas commented, his voice tinted lightly with amusement as he recalled not long ago, a friend who claimed to have such vision. Only to walk straight into the path of a legion of armed archers. He took a seat behind the knight, picked up a dart and twirled it through his fingers contemplatively.

"You are wearied by their company?" Tristan asked of the other knights, finally looking at the Elf.

The corner of Legolas' mouth raised in a tiny smile. "I would not say so, but it came clear that I was no longer suited to their company."

"I see." Thunk! Another dart hit its target. Tristan looked to the table with his fellow knights, laughing loudly and slapping one another on the back. Rarely did the knight spend time with his fellow comrades to partake in such activities. He much preferred solitude than to drink and be merry.

"And so you came here, searching for peace and quiet."

"I have," Legolas replied. "In the company of a friend."

Thunk! Tristan's dart swivelled out of control and landed far from its goal.

He turned toward the Elf. "A friend?"

"A friend," Legolas confirmed. He kept his gaze pinned on the knight as he raised his hand and threw the dart he fingered. Tristan followed its trajectory and his eyes widened when the dart landed dead in the centre of the target which was marked with a tiny red dot.

"Very impressive," Tristan said. "How did you?" his voice trailed off.

"I aim for the middle," Legolas replied with a smile, repeating the knight's casual response.

"Indeed."

"Did you want anything else, lads?" Vanora asked as she stalked over to their small corner of the tavern.

Without looking toward the woman, Tristan grunted in response while Legolas politely refused.

"No, milady we thank you, but we are not in need of ale at the moment."

"Alright lad, but if you need anything," she trailed off.

"Yes, I shall come to you."

She smiled and with a twirl of her skirts she returned to the boisterous knights.

Legolas returned his attention to his friend as he pointed kept his attention on his dart. "Tristan, my friend, I wish to ask you why do you not join the others in their merriment?"

Tristan turned to look at the Elf and arched his brow sarcastically.

Legolas gazed at the table with the knights as Bors and Lancelot each drained their ale while Gawain and Galahad cheered them on. He understood the unspoken message. "I see. I too find their merry making to be rather loud and their choice of conversation to be lewd."

"I also prefer to drink alone," Tristan said at last, taking a swig from a bottle that was until then concealed.

"Ah," the elf replied. The knight offered him the bottle. Out of curiosity, he took it and sniffed its contents. It smelled strong and sweet like honey. Legolas recognized it as mead. Aragorn drank this often during his days as a ranger. When he and Legolas would stay by a fire at night, Aragorn would heat some of it the sweet drink to stay warn. He knew then, that Legolas was always there to ensure his friend's safety. Legolas tasted the mead and pulled back. He nearly spat it out. It was very strong, stronger than the ale the knights were drinking and not as sweet as Aragorn's. He still did not favour it and found that it tasted not far from Orc drought, a vile bitter drink, thick, black and poisonous to Elves. At least that was the argument he had with Aragorn every time the man chided the elf for favouring mulled wine over fortified mead.

Tristan smothered a grin at watching the Elf choke down the mead. Amused, he accepted the bottle Legolas quickly returned. A quick glance to his left revealed the knights had quieted down their drinking and had mostly deserted the tavern.

"I believe it is best to retire," Legolas croaked.

"The hour does grow late," Tristan agreed as he eyed the knights stumbling out of the tavern.

"Will they recover by morning?" Legolas asked.

"It is my hope. It has been a long time since they found cause for such merriment and it has been even longer since I have spoken so much."

"So I see," Legolas arched his brow. "Yet, I also see we are both beings of few words that draw strength in the simple presence of one another." Tristan's pensive look confirmed he had heard the Elf, but otherwise offered no reply.

Legolas stood up and nodded to the knight, "I bid your good night," he said walking away.

Tristan inclined his head and watched the Elf go. He thought of their conversation, the words they had exchanged. When had be begun to withdraw himself from the other knights? How long had it been?

While it was true he was never has boisterous as his comrades, Tristan had once been an active participant in their games and amusements.

He threw a dart at the wall.

That was before, when they were young. Before the killing and the death.

Though Tristan had grown into his role as a formidable killer and the knights' sentinel, he still mourned the loss of their fallen knights and the loss of his own innocence. Tristan sought refuge from the haunted images in his mind by honing his skills, unlike the others who sought freedom from their demons by chasing drink, women and frivolities.

Both were wrong.

Both were right.

He never shared these thoughts with anyone, not even himself, but the strange Elf's presence changed things, drew out his deepest most hidden feelings and changed the way he looked at life and himself. Perhaps there was hope after all. Though, it would take more than one heart to heart with the Elf before he would even consider changing his way of thinking.

As he threw another dart, Tristan did not blame his friends, and they did not blame him. It was these differences that allowed both sides to bring out their strengths and at the end of all things. That was what counted the most. Each one relied on the strength of the other, and together they were nigh unstoppable. Never before had the Woads and the other Britons been under such guard since the arrival of Arthur and his knights. They were a formidable team, even as their numbers dwindled.

A small smile teased the corner of the knight's mouth as he thought his days as a young knight, poised and ready for adventure, sparring and laughing with Percival while listening to Kai's exaggerated stories of his knightly conquests, drinking with Bedivere who enjoyed a good pint of ale and showed Tristan how to make fortified mead.

Tristan's smile faded and his eyes saddened as he thought of these same knights staring emptily at the sky, of Percival's bloodied hand gripping his as he fought for dear life, only to have it fade away. Tristan closed his eyes. Though he may have been granted his freedom this day, he did not feel it.

He firmly believed only the dead were free.

The living kept on living, forever haunted by the shadows of the past. Yes, until the day he died, Tristan would forever be enslaved, bound to everlasting torment, constantly reminded of those who had fallen before him and wait to see many others fall. So many had come and gone, including many of his loved ones from home, if he even still had a home. Tristan was no longer certain of his place in this world or if he even still there was still one left for him.

Casting one final mournful gaze across the tavern, Tristan removed the darts from the target, tossed them on the table and walked out without looking back to the ghosts of the past.

**oOo**

Though the rowdy evening of celebration ended rather early, the fortress had quieted quickly once the knights retired. The night had reached its twilight, but despite this, sleep was elusive for the Elf. Legolas could not longer remain in his quarters and began to wander the dimly lit empty halls of the fortress. The wind spoke softly to the Elf the moment he stepped out into the cool crisp night. Legolas stared up at the stars and for a moment wished he was watching Aragorn stuffing his pipe, preparing to smoke his beloved longbottom leaf despite the Elf's constant reminder of his displeasure of the weed. As the wind continued to caress his face with an affection close to that of his home, a strong sense of foreboding began to stir deep within the pit of his stomach, growing incessantly to his limbs.

The trees whispered earnestly to the Elf, warning him yet again of an impending doom. Something was definitely amiss, the closer to the northern part of the fortress the Elf came, the stronger the whispers. Determined, Legolas quickly rushed up the steps to the sentries by the wall, startling the Roman guards stationed there for the night.

"Is there something amiss, sir?" one of the soldiers named Quintus, inquired as he noticed the Elf's concentrated gaze on over the wall into the Northern part of Britain.

"I am uncertain," he replied as his gaze swept over the hilly land before him. At first his keen eyes could not detect any potential danger. He was about to turn around to reassure the young soldiers when again the trees whispered their warning and Legolas returned his gaze to the hills before him.

Then he saw it.

It only began as tiny orange specks of light, but as the Elf strained his eyes to see further than any man ever could, he saw it. Thousands of soldiers were slowly advancing toward the Wall, their torches lighting the way in the dead of night like a great wave of fire.

"What is it?" The Roman soldier asked as he saw the colour drain from the Elf's face as he backed away from the parapet.

"You must warn Arthur immediately. The Saxons," Legolas said in an alarmed voice, "they are coming."


	11. Chapter Ten

**A Strange Fate**

**A/N:** I know, I know! Another delay! I was gone to Europe for a month in October and then submerged myself in NaNoWriMo for November. To those of you who sent me little notes reminding me that I should finish this… THANK YOU! You're a doll! ;) Thanks again for all the comments, I treasure all of them. :)

**Chapter ****10: **What tomorrow brings

_What tomorrow brings, we cannot know._

The remnants of a soft voice whispering words into his ears echoed hauntingly as a multitude of thoughts coursed through Arthur's mind. He dressed precipitously, his fingers fumbling quickly but awkwardly to tie the catches of his tunic. The main thought at the forefront of his consciousness was how grateful he was that Guinevere had chosen to return to her quarters after their illicit encounter. He could not yet discern the thoughts the warrior maiden elicited in his heart, but he knew they were a cause for additional reflection as he was not a man of many pleasures in life. So very few times did he find himself in the throes of passion with a woman who brought out such indiscernible feelings. Long after she kissed him in a final embrace before slipping away through the dark halls, he was still reeling from the feeling of her lips brushing against his. Her only words spoken to him as she entered his quarters still haunted his thoughts.

_What tomorrow brings, we cannot know._

Quickly shaking these thoughts from his mind Arthur refocused on the moment, Jols had awoken him in the dead of night. Though this was not an uncommon occurrence the urgency in his attendant's voice was enough cause for concern. Meeting Guinevere on his way, he raced across the fort through the courtyard and up towards the wall, taking two steps at a time. On his way, he found Lancelot, his hair dripping wet and mist ghosting around him from the cold winter air. Obviously the knight sought a way to sober himself rather quickly and he stumbled after his commander.

"Make way! Make way!" One of the soldiers shouted as Arthur passed by.

As he rounded the final steps to reach the top of the wall, Arthur was met by Legolas whose gaze was transfixed on a sight which stole the breath from his lungs. He quickly turned his head and closed his eyes to regain his composure and mask the sheer terror coursing through his veins as he heard the harried steps of his fellow knights rushing up to meet him.

Before them was the plains of Northern Briton and at the far end, a full day's journey away marched an ocean of flame and destruction. The Saxon army had regrouped and was now advancing at a terrible pace toward the Wall, one more confrontation becoming more than a nightmare, but a reality. He turned his back to the fires across the wall and gazed at the knights who had rushed forth along with Guinevere. A terrible ache gnawed at his heart and he fought to stifle the sob that wrestled to escape his throat as he took into account the defenceless state of the serfs and the small number of Roman soldiers still guarding the Wall. He turned to face the Elf standing close to him, and he knew in that instant the Elf would follow him into whatever path he chose. However, he felt a pang of guilt upon seeing the faces of his knights who had just won their freedom. How could he ask them to throw it all away a second time? They had barely escaped with their lives on their last mission. Arthur did not have the heart to ask it of them once again. He would fight alone.

Resolved and with a strong voice, he said, "Knights. My journey with you must end here. May God go with you."

He had no intention of remaining a moment longer to hear the protests that would no doubt follow; he nodded to the knights and left quickly.

Legolas could hear a heated argument in the distance between Arthur and Lancelot, one deciding to stay for this was the moment he had waited for and the other begging his friend not to waste his life on a fruitless mission. Legolas chose to keep his distance, but he was sincere when he offered to stand at Arthur's side. He stared at the approaching army for what felt like hours, even to an Elf, but it was most likely less than a half hour. He estimated they would arrive by midday or perhaps later.

As her continued his observation, Legolas felt a slight shift in the winds which drew his attention toward the sound of the trees. His gaze brought him over the wall where he saw a small party rushing forth toward the fort. He observed them for some time, until at last they disappeared underneath the Wall, most likely arriving at the gate. Legolas closed his eyes as a gust of warm wind caressed his face and he once again heard the murmur of the trees.

_Estel_

Legolas abruptly opened his eyes.

_Lasto beth nîn, tolo dan nan Estel_

A rush of relief filled Legolas' heart as he realized his eyes, his heart and the trees did not tell lies. Quintus stood to full attention as he too felt the wind and noticed the party. "What is it?" he asked the Elf.

"Hope," Legolas replied with a smile.

"Hope? What hope? Who are they?" Quintus asked as Legolas raced down the stairs.

-OoO-

"Open the gate!" Legolas shouted as he ran towards the main entrance of the wall where several guards stood in a semi circle, with their weapons at the ready.

"Open the gate, quickly!" Legolas repeated. The guards at the gate regarded the Elf with a puzzled look on their face as though they wished to proclaim the Elf mad. They turned their questioning eyes to Arthur whose back was turned to them. Legolas regarded the Romans with interested. It was clear that Arthur was presently occupied speaking with someone, possibly the intruders at the gate.

"My Lord?" Pullo, the head guard asked Arthur.

Still not giving the guards and Legolas his attention, Arthur nodded in agreement and turned to face them. He stepped aside and a party of strangers revealed themselves from the shadows. The guards exchanged curious glances but Legolas stepped forward, his eyes sparkling with utter delight. He stood before a group of four cloaked horsemen. The first one stepped forward and lowered his hood.

"Estel, mellon min!" Legolas exclaimed as his friend raised his gaze hurriedly toward the sound of his voice.

"Legolas?" Aragorn said with a smile of relief on his face that believed the disbelieving tone of his voice. He rushed forward and embraced his friend.

"Legolas, my friend, it brings me great joy to see you well."

"We have feared the worst, mellon nin," another member of Aragorn's party said. Legolas was able to identify him immediately.

"Elrohir, my friend and Elladan. I am also relieved to see you all,' he said. "And you as well, Malachim" Legolas said in reference to the fourth rider, a young and trustworthy soldier Aragorn favoured.

"Thank you my lord, it is an honour to see you well," the boy replied bowing slightly. He did not notice the dark stare Aragorn gave him with the use of the title.

Turning to Arthur, Legolas quickly introduced him to the company.

"As you are friends of Legolas, you are most welcome to remain with us this night, but I would urge you to leave by morning. We are on the brink of an impending attack, I fear we cannot the offer you the hospitality we would be keen on providing to travellers."

"It is well," Aragorn said. "It matters not, we are certainly relieved to see our friend well and we are truly grateful for the aide you have provided, thus far."

"Come," Arthur urged. "Allow us at least to take you to shelter this night."

As the party made their way to the fort, Legolas quickly informed them of his version of what had transpired since he had been separated from his garrison so many months before. For his part, Aragorn filled in the gaps, providing the missing links between Legolas' memories and the actual events that had transpired.

"And so, we found the Gondorian emissaries and the garrison that accompanied you, they had been without food or water for some time, but they are now well."

Legolas closed his eyes in relief. During his time in Briton he had feared the worst for the soldiers that were accompanying him on his journey to Harad. "Were there any injuries?"

Aragorn nodded. "Only minor ones with the exception of Tauriel, who was struck by an arrow. She has long ago healed and was adamant to join the search party."

"Poor Tauriel, she is very brave. I am relieved to see she and the others are well," Legolas smiled before changing the subject. "Aragorn, from what I could tell, we were ambushed by Easterlings."

Aragorn's eyes darkened. "I know. At first we had accused Southron rebels who wished to disrupt the negotiations, but as it turned out they were Easterlings as you say. Along with a party of Southrons, we tracked them and eliminated the problem, fortunately with little bloodshed."

"That is good news. I am pleased to hear this," Legolas said obviously relieved.

Aragorn eyed his friend up and down. "And what of you my friend, I fear that your time here was not altogether pleasant."

Legolas averted his gaze. "There were great trials," he admitted. Elladan and Elrohir looked at one another in suspicion. There was far more that Legolas would not say. Aragorn may accept the Elf's explanation, but the twins knew their friend longer than the man did. They also knew his array of evasive manoeuvres when wanting to avoid discussing his wellbeing.

"We were able to track you not three days ago," Elladan began. "We spoke to many villagers from this land and they spoke of your appearance and exploits."

The Noldor Elf smiled slightly. "Stopping an arrow in mid-flight? Only you can achieve such a feat."

Legolas arched his brow, shrugging unassumingly.

"From what I can tell, you have made friends here. The guards appear to respect you." Elrohir mentioned as guards bowed their head in their direction.

"It was not without great pains," Legolas said. "Many of these folk do not give their trust freely. And so, we learned to trust one another."

"_Telin le thaed_, Legolas," Elladan said, offering help on behalf of the riders.

"_Hannon le_."

Legolas observed Arthur and felt a twinge of guilt for not including him in his conversation with Aragorn and the twin sons of Elrond. Then, a thought struck him. "Elladan, I must ask you, do you have any remedy to cure the drinking ailment?"

Elladan furrowed his brows and he thought for a moment. "Yes, I believe so," he said at last, then turned curious eyes on the blond Elf. "Why do you ask?" His eyes widened suddenly. "Certainly you have not…"

Legolas laughed at the elder twin's implication. "No, no of course not."

Arthur marched ahead of the group of Elves, speaking in their Elvish tongue. He could not understand the words, but judging by the tone of voice, each Elf was using when he spoke, they exchanged their relief at their reunion and most likely completed the missing parts of their stories. Arthur was glad for the Elf, but he could not but help a feeling of disappointment. He had hoped the Elf would stand by him in battle the next day. But, now that his friends had come to claim him, Arthur doubted very much he or his friends would be willing to sacrifice themselves on the battlefield. He heard Legolas laugh out loud, not something he was accustomed to hearing and he felt his heart lighten and weight down at the same time.

"Arthur," the Elf shouted making the Roman stop, school his features into an impassive mask and turn around to face the group.

Legolas smiled again and approached the man. "I believe we may have something that may assist the knights in their recovery of their drinking. Elladan and his brother Elrohir are proficient healers and have brought their healing herbs. They could give the knights some tea. Perhaps they will be more able bodied in the morning."

This was not was Arthur was expecting to hear, and despite the positive statement it brought back more bitter feelings. "Thank you, Legolas; I am certain the knights will greatly appreciate being spared the torment of waking in the morning."

"Indeed."

"I do not believe the knights have gone to rest just yet, I shall summon them to the Round Table. You may administer the draught from there."

Elladan raised his hand to stop the knight. "Very well, by doing so it will allow them rest this night, for the hour grows late. The tea may be drunk once again in the morning."

Arthur nodded with a smile. "Again, thank you."

Legolas and the Elves nodded and bowed their heads.

-OoO-

Arthur hurriedly summoned the knights to join him in the Round Table Chamber. Each one joined him begrudgingly, for their own reasons, whether it be a sense of betrayal or excess inebriety. While Arthur was hard at work, gathering his most trusted soldiers, Elladan and Elrohir prepared the quick draught that was promised.

"Why are we here, Arthur?" Gawain grumbled as he stumbled in, nearly colliding with Bors who held his head. Lancelot was already there and stood with his arms crossed, a dark expression on his face. He said not a word and kept his dark expression for Arthur. Tristan and Galahad quickly followed suit.

"Arthur?" Galahad asked clearly puzzled by the new arrivals. "Who are these men? Or rather, Elves?" he asked his eyes widened as he took in the appearance of both Elladan and Elrohir.

"These are friends of Legolas," Arthur explained. "This is Elladan and his brother Elrohir," he introduced the twin elven brothers who brought in a tray of drinks. "And this is Aragorn, one of Legolas' closest friends."

"You are not an Elf?" Galahad asked, obviously curious by the apparent discrepancy.

"That is correct, sir, I am no Elf," Aragorn replied. He raised his eyebrows expectantly. Galahad stood dumbly at the man for several minutes until at last Arthur noticed this and introduced the knights one by one to the group of riders.

As Bors was introduced, Aragorn nodded to the man and said. "I believe we have met before, though you may not recall, it was some days ago."

"Oh yeah!" Bors slurred, still inebriated, "I remember you!"

Aragorn recoiled as the knight came too close and slapped him on the shoulder as though they were friends of old.

Arthur at last cleared his throat and explained to the knights that the Elven twins were skilled healers and prepared a draught to help them cure their upcoming ailment. Each one gratefully accepted the draught, Tristan included, despite the fact that he had barely drunk the previous night.

"It should not take very long for the mixture to take full effect, however it is best to drink it again in the morning to ensure the reaction is complete," Elrohir explained as Malachim gathered the empty cups from the knights.

Malachim excitedly walked over to Legolas and bowed before him. "Is there naught else I can do for you your highness," he asked eagerly.

Legolas narrowed his eyes on the boy worriedly.

"Your high-ness?" Galahad asked, having overhead the boy speak. "What does he mean, Legolas?"

Lancelot, who was also close by, narrowed his eyes suspiciously and looked to the Elf in anger.

"Your highness," Lancelot repeated. "What does Malachim mean by that?"

He turned his easily infuriated gaze to the Elf. "What is it Legolas? You can no longer speak, you are too proud to stand before us know?" The knight walked aggressively toward him.

"How dare are you speak to his Highness Prince Legolas that way!" Malachim exclaimed unable watch as the Elf he idolized was ridiculed and drew the attention of the other knights with the inclusion of Arthur. They all stood rather shocked upon hearing the boy's words.

"Malachim be silent!" Aragorn quickly urged him to be quiet.

Elladan and Elrohir instantly responded to the threat by standing defensively on either side of the friend. Noticing this, Lancelot smiled ruefully.

"Ah, I see. Does this mean that Legolas, our *friend* Legolas is not our friend after all? What is it, you've been with us for days and you've been hiding the fact you're what? Royalty?"

"Prince?" Galahad said sounding more hurt than angry. "You have been with us all this time, yet you said not who you truly were. You're a Prince, the Prince of what?"

Legolas nodded and raised his gaze to meet the knight squarely in the eyes, and spoke calmly. "Yes, Galahad, I am a Prince. My father is the King of Eryn Lasgalen, my home."

"Thus all this time, all your assistance, all your help has been what? An act of diplomacy? An attempt to gather information for what? To invade us? Have you said nothing truthful," Galahad ranted, feeling utterly betrayed. The knight threw his cup the crashing sound making Malachim flinch.

"Of course not, Galahad, that is not so," Legolas spoke gently trying to keep the situation from escalating.

"And when you spoke of serving your king, you meant your father," Gawain added his contribution to the agitated argument. "Thus, you serve no one but yourself. You never did help your people, did you?"

"You know not of what you speak, child," Elladan berated, his temper flaring.

"_Na dínen muindor Na him_!" Elrohir urged his brother to be silent and calm.

"_Law muindor nin_!" Elladan refused to listen, his anger burning. "Did Legolas not offer his life to help you? Was he not terribly injured to save the life of your men? You are all the same! You ungrateful horrid little–"

"Friends, friends," Aragorn interrupted urgently knowing exactly what his brother would call the knight. He took the opportunity to stand in the middle of the room between both sides. "We are not here to exchange blame and be angry toward one another. Is there not a battle forthcoming in the morning? Should we not save our ire for them? To set ablaze the enemy and smote their ruin?"

Arthur nodded, his face also registering anger, but he saw the look of earnestness in both Legolas' and Aragorn's face. He had seen the Elf in action, and did not doubt his heart, despite this troubling news. He also felt the sting of betrayal and wondered why the Elf felt the need to conceal his true identify. "I believe Aragorn is right."

The knights began to protest loudly, even shouting curses, accusations of treachery and promises of retribution. Arthur needed to raise his voice above the ruckus to continue.

"I too, am deeply wounded by this troubling news, though, I am certain there is a sensible reasoning for this apparent deception. However Aragorn is correct, we need to save our strength for tomorrow. You are all leaving for home and I must prepare for battle." The commander spoke authoritatively, leaving no room for negotiations. The knights scoffed and rebuked Arthur, but did nod disobey the voice they were so used to following. They cursed and spat at the Elf's feet, eliciting dark stares and promises of retribution from both Elven lords and young Malachim. Aragorn and Legolas stood passively as the knights left with the exception of Tristan, who had remained apart of the entire ordeal.

Leaning against the wall at the entrance of the chamber, Tristan said: "A Prince, negotiator and warrior, who would have thought?"

Legolas looked at the man he considered to be a friend. "You are not surprised or angered?"

"I suspected," the knight agreed. "There is an air about you that spoke of royalty. It is logical, who else but a Prince would be sent as an emissary for a King to negotiate a peace treaty? It is a good strategy, especially when the treaty is of great importance."

Legolas nodded, his appreciation for his friend evident on his face. Tristan responded in kind and took his leave with the others.

When the knights had left, Arthur turned his searing gaze to the Elf. "I trust there is a valid explanation for this deceitfulness?" he said, not masking his resentment.

"Yes, Arthur. I do apologize for the deception. There was no intent to harm anyone."

"Then why conceal who you truly are?"

Legolas closed his eyes sadly, "Because of this, you see, I am the Crown Prince of my father's Kingdom. Middle-earth is a very dangerous place and the knowledge of my lineage has been used against my father and the people of Eryn Lasgalen before. It took great lengths and considerable pain to reverse the damage that was nearly done to our people because knowledge of an official visit from the Crown Prince to a neighbouring land turned perilous."

"I remember this," Elrohir began. "It was many years ago, Aragorn was not born yet. In fact Aragorn, your great grand father was not born, either," the Elf added. "When it was known the Crown Prince was travelling freely, acting as an emissary between two lands, he was taken prisoner and used as barter for the King of Mirkwood, which was the name of Eryn Lasgalen at the time, to hand over command of the realm or lose his son. It took many days to find the Prince."

"It was over a week, if I recall," Elladan added. "Legolas was very young and gravely injured. It was then it was decided it is for the best to protect the Prince's identity when travelling."

Arthur narrowed his eyes suspiciously, "I am inclined to believe you, however at the moment I am not so certain. I will require time to adjust to this news."

"I understand, Arthur. Believe me you are not the first to whom this concealment is an apparent deception. It is simply the result of a bitter lesson learned: to not immediately be so trusting with strangers. I cannot imagine how different my stay would have been had the Romans known of my true lineage."

"You may be correct, the Romans would have been far less merciful," Arthur conceded.

Elladan, Elrohir and Aragorn exchanged worried looks, uncertain to what events the Roman commander was referring to.

Malachim, who had until then remained silent after his exclamation threw himself at Legolas' mercy. "I am so sorry, my Lord, please forgive me," he begged, clearly remorseful of his outburst.

Legolas smiled gently at the boy. "Of course Malachim, I thank you for the show of admiration; however, it was neither the time nor the place."

Malachim nodded. "Of course, my Lord."

"Please, it is Legolas," the Elf laughed. "Have you not yet learned?"

Malachim lowered his head bashfully. "Of course my Lor- Legolas."

"Better."

Aragorn looked again at Arthur and noticed the man was still not convinced. "Perhaps, Arthur," he began. "I would add to Legolas' confession, my stating that though I am Aragorn and a ranger," Aragorn looked down at his ragged clothing and smiled. "I too, have spent many years concealing my lineage for fear that our great enemy, The Dark Lord Sauron, would find me."

Arthur stared at the man inquisitively. "I recall hearing of this enemy; he was defeated, was he not?"

"Yes, indeed, he was," Legolas added.

A small smile twitched at the corner of Arthur's mouth. "Then if Legolas' tale is to be believed, you must be the King he was to represent in these negotiations that never took place."

Aragorn nodded. "Indeed, I am him, Elessar, High King of Gondor. For the entirely of my life I have hidden my identity for my protection and that of my lineage, for Sauron sought to destroy the last heir to the throne of Gondor. It was not until his ultimate defeated that I could at last claim the right to the throne."

"Aragorn had done so reluctantly," Elrohir added, his fondness for his surrogate brother obvious in his voice. "Gondor is a better place now that the King has returned."

"I see," Arthur was taken aback by this news. He was impressed that a High King would take the time to lead a search party to find a dear friend, knowing this friend was also royalty aided in believing the deed.

"The hour grows late. I shall take my leave. Jols, my attendant will show you to your quarters. I will see you off in the morning," he said at last, bowing slightly and leaving the room.

-OoO-

Aragorn was immensely relieved to see his friend was alive and relatively well. However, he was greatly disturbed by the Elf's evasive answers and how he appeared to keep himself closely guarded. He did not elaborate on his stay in this cold, wet land. It reminded him far too much of the Marshlands between Emyn Muil and Mordor. He shivered; such thoughts did not bring that many good memories. There was something about the Elf. During his entire exchange with Legolas, from their reunion at the gate their current silent march through the long dark corridors of the fort, he exchanged several worried glances with his brothers. Legolas was thinner, much paler than usual and his eyes were hooded. They concealed a great pain the elf did not want his friends to see. Clearly his time in Briton was not good, the heated argument with the knights not withstanding. Most likely the Elf had been a prisoner and mistreated. He also noticed how the Elf had a slight limp and favoured his left shoulder and right side. Was he injured? He would need to speak with this Arthur before dawn to determine what the man knew.

With these thoughts in mind, Aragorn was prepared for Legolas' rebuttal when they were provided with quarters for them to spend the remainder of the night. However, despite retiring, the Elven party retreated to Arthur's round table chamber to continue their vivid discussion, where Legolas plead his case.

"No, Legolas, we accomplished the mission we were to perform. And so, now we must now endeavour to return to Middle-earth I know there are many who-"

"Aragorn, I made a promise to these people and I intend to keep it," Legolas interjected abruptly.

"Yes, but Legolas, I too made a promise to bring you home safely. I promised Laralen, I swore to her that I would lay down my life before leaving you to a ghastly fate. Does this no longer hold any meaning to you?"

"Yes it does. I understand Aragorn, but what you do not understand is that I am indebted to these people. They saved my life and thus I have sworn to help them and they are in a great time of need. I cannot abandon them now. It would be utterly faithless to do so."

Aragorn sighed in frustration. "Yes I see, mellon nin; however you have already done so much to assist them. Your presence has already altered their fate, what more can you offer? What more could you possibly achieve by dying for them? It would make you rescue futile and my mission a failure."

Legolas' eyes widened in anger as their colour faded from a deep sapphire to a pale ice blue. "You of all people should understand the importance of an oath, your Majesty. O Aragorn Elessar, King of Gondor and Arnor, holder of the sceptre and keeper of the White Tree, were you not yourself not so long ago; ready to throw your life away for a cause you truly believed was just?"

"This is not the same Legolas. Besides, it appears they no longer wish your help. They believe you deceived them by concealing who you truly are."

"That is not so. It is Arthur's knights who are angry and I cannot blame them, but not Arthur himself. He appears to understand and would need all the help he can get. He stands alone, Aragorn. All I ask is to stand next to him. Let me finish what I started. I do not even ask you to join me. I only ask that you to step aside and let me fulfill this fate."

Aragorn shook his head despairingly, washing himself of all implications.

"What shall I tell Laralen, your beloved who stands alone and as Regent over your land? Land I have given you, may I remind you."

Elladan took a step forward and stood next to Legolas. "That Legolas stands alone is untrue, but with those who would believe in him and support his cause," he said as his brother, Elrohir also took his place as the opposite side of the Sindar Elf.

"You would sacrifice my brothers as well!" Aragorn sighed in frustration and walked away from the Round Table chamber. He walked aimlessly until he found the armoury. He stood by the doorway and watched as the Roman soldiers emptied it along with the majority of weapons and supplies. Unlike Arthur, the Romans were leaving the fort, abandoning the people of the land to their fate. When the armoury was emptied of both soldiers and supplies, he entered the dark room and sat on one of the wood benches. He was suddenly reminded of a similar time, where he and the elf had a similar argument and stood on opposite sides. Fingering the cracks in the wall, he remembered how very strongly he felt of the cause he had chosen to support, despite the great risk to his life and the disapproval of the same Elf who now begged for his approval of his own futile mission. He breathed a sigh and laughed by himself in the darkness. He laughed at the irony at how their positions were now reversed.

Legolas was right, at its core, it was no different. Both were dangerous and risky, and Aragorn could have easily lost his life, in fact if it weren't for the Elf, he would have. Several times during the Quest for the Ring had Aragorn been grateful for Legolas' presence. The elf was a fortress of strength, confidence and support throughout the entire campaign, regardless of its apparent futility, and they survived. They survived, and were victorious. Righteousness and peace had overcome the darkness of Middle-earth. Certainly, this cause appeared righteous and would allow justice to prevail once again.

With a newfound determination, Aragorn stood up and returned to the Round Table chamber were he found Legolas and the twins going over battle plans with Arthur, who obviously could not find rest this night either.

He strode into the room to stand before Legolas. The man's presence elicited a hush to quiet the room as all presence stood expectantly for his next words.

Staring intensely into the Elf's eyes, he declared: "Very well, I will join you. But you must assure me that you will survive this madness else I will kill you myself, even if I have to chase you from death's door."

Legolas offered the man a bright smile and his eyes sparkled with obvious relief and gratitude. "Of course, my friend. Though, I believe you would need to wait your turn, for Laralen herself would hunt me down into the very depths of Mandos' Hall to bring me back to the living and kill me herself should I perish."

"Indeed, she would," Aragorn laughed, "as would the Queen, who loves you dearly. Now let us go over these plans you have begun to draw out. Arthur, let us provide you with counsel."

"I would be grateful to receive your wisdom, your Majesty," Arthur said, bowing his head in the presence of the Monarch.

Aragorn waved his hand, "Please, as Legolas made it abundantly clear, titles are of no value here. Call me Aragorn."

"As you wish Aragorn," the knight acquiesced.

"Let us see what you strategies you have planned up till now," Aragorn offered again.

"Yes, and we shall also provide you with remedies that shall extend your strength and help treat any wounds sustained on the battlefield. We Elves do not need much rest before a battle, but you men certainly do," Elladan offered, a hint of a smile twitching in Aragorn's direction. "We have a remedy which may aid you in retaining your wakefulness during the battle."

"I would be grateful for whatever you can offer," Arthur said.

The small group them began to pour over Arthur's battle strategy until the following morning and offered whatever counsel they could.

-OoO-

Arthur did not success in finding rest this past night. The Elven twins, Elladan and Elrohir, had provided him with a tonic that would help him remain awake during the day, now that his night had been entirely sleepless. Though the Elves had provided invaluable counsel to assist him in battle, they would not fight by his side; he would stand alone to face the approaching army. He wandered aimlessly just as dawn finally began to chase away the darkness, his mind devoid of thought and as the first few rays of light began to filter slowly through the clouds, he found himself in the burial ground. Without thinking, his feet unconsciously led him to the one place the knight sought when his heart was heavy. Passing through the monuments of his fallen comrades, Arthur found himself standing before the most influential grave: his father's. He knelt by the mount without a sword, his hands digging in the cold damp earth. Countless times had he found himself in this very place, in times of great need, great victories or when he doubted his potential or his leadership.

His feelings for Guinevere were at the forefront of his mind and generated countless questions he knew he must ask. Could he truly love a Briton? Was it possible for him to seek an alliance with a maiden from the people he spent his entire career as a soldier fighting against? Was peace with the Woads and the other Briton tribes truly an attainable goal? Could they unite against their common enemy for the good of all? Could he put aside his hatred and place his faith in Merlin, Guinevere or Legolas, and learn to trust them as he once trusted Rome? Would they deceive him as Germanius did so careless?

The very core of Arthur's beliefs were shaken, the foundations on which he built his faith were no longer stable. What would his knights do now that they had at least acquired that which they most deserved and desired so? Their freedom.

Would they stand behind him in this great time of need? Would they let him stand alone against this insurmountable duty?

In his youth, when he studied in Rome, his great mentor, Pelagius, once told him the tale of a boy who stood up to a great giant. David, the young Israelite shepherd had fought against Goliath, the Philistine warrior who had terrorized his people. Barely able to carry his own weight, young David fearlessly challenged Goliath, armed with a rock and sling and his faith in God. Shortly after his great victory, he was crowned King of Ancient Israel. Could he, Lucius Artorius Castus do the same and stand before the might of the Saxon army and defeat it, as David once had?

"Father, Arthur began, his voice soft and charged with emotion, "Unlike David, I cannot do this alone."

"Nor should you." Arthur turned around swiftly to face the voice intruding his inner turmoil.

"Legolas?" he asked and noticed the Elf's friend, Aragorn was with him, "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. And to tell you that you stand not alone, but with friends. Aragorn and I have pledge our support to your cause. We should stand beside you in battle, all of us."

Arthur shook his head, "No, I cannot ask it of you." He addressed Aragorn, "Your quest was to find the Prince, your friend, and bring him home. You have already provided us with much counsel, we cannot ask for more."

"You need not to," Aragorn said as he took Arthur's hand and helped him stand. "We offer our aid freely to stand at your side," the King of Gondor smiled, "Besides, we have much experience fighting."

Arthur gratefully returned the King's smile. Guinevere was right, what tomorrow brings, we cannot know.

**A/N #2:** There's something iffy about this chapter. I can't put my finger on it. Maybe it's the never-ending night (a lot does happen, doesn't it?) or the sequence of events. Help! Thanks so much for reading even after all these years. You are the most patient audience! 3 Also, if you want to know who Laralen is, read my other non-crossover LOTR fics (or don't, they're not very good) and Tauriel is a character that will appear in the Hobbit movies (as if you didn't know that already!) I'm assuming she is a warrior and survives.


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